


Would it be a sin?

by juggydunes



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-04-17 05:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14181984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juggydunes/pseuds/juggydunes
Summary: "He thinks this is the reason there are books and poems about music, this is the reason music has been around for ages, because of people like her."OR Jughead is the bassist of Archie's band and Betty joins their tour as the supporting act.>> Edited and reposted <<





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Any mistakes are mine.

Jughead puts out the cigarette before tossing it onto the trash can because he might be a smoker but he was not a litterer, _thank you very much_.

Taking his phone from his pocket he checks the time again, not surprised Archie was late. Jughead sighs, longing for his couch and some snacks instead of waiting for his best friend to come check the hundredth musician _(If some they’ve seen could even be called that)_ to be their supporting act on the upcoming tour.

They had seen everything on the list their label had sent them, this was their last stop before they _had_ to make a choice.  Jughead couldn’t wait for this to be over, even if a part of him was really worried they’d have to hire trash musicians to go on tour with them. They had narrowed it down to three possible options, and they weren’t even _that_ great. Too much synth, too many instruments, too much clutter and a complete deficit of artistic talent.

And most importantly, of soul. No soul whatsoever. For weeks the music he had been hearing felt flat on his ears, all coming together until he could no longer differentiate between bands. Not a single song had made him blink twice or his heart beat faster, which was a complete shame.

Archie had gotten mad at him for being _such a picky little shit_ as he had so eloquently put it but he simply couldn’t bring himself to pick just one and let it be over. He wanted everything to be perfect, they had worked hard to be where they are now and he would never possibly jeopardize it because of some crappy supporting act.

For the hundredth time, Jughead sends a silent prayer to the heavens, asking for a decent counterpart. Someone that had passion instead of anyone looking for their 15 seconds of fame.

“Hey, Jug!” Archie yells as he walks towards him. “You’ve been waiting for a while?”

“Do you really want the answer to that question?” Jug tells him, raising his eyebrows.

“Good point. Let’s go inside then.”

They enter the bar and Jughead silently thanks the gods that it’s somewhat dark inside, making it easy for them to move unnoticed. It’s not like they’re _famous_ yet, but Archie’s popularity has been on the rise and while it also means the band is getting more famous sometimes Jughead just misses being a normal nobody.

Archie, on the other hand, is more than comfortable to stop and take pictures, sign autographs  and answer any questions the public had. _Someone has to be social, Jug, we can’t all be loner musical geniuses_ he’d said.

Making a stop to get beer, they sit down at a free table just before the show starts. Jughead doesn’t bother looking up, settling for watching as the condensation on his glass travels down, down until it touches the wooden table. He can hear the first chords and beat drums, Archie intently looking at the stage.

They’ve developed a nice dynamic between the two, Jughead would mainly judge the music while Archie would also assess the _aesthetical_ side and everything else. Not that Archie didn’t have an artistic bone in his body, he was actually a very good composer but of the two of them, Jughead only cared about the music and nothing else.

Reverberated voices sound across the room and he absently nods at the pleasing sound. Jughead listens intently, a little surprised to hear a violin in the mix. It feels refreshing to listen to a well balanced band with a mixed sound, even if the bar’s sound system isn’t the best, he had been growing tired of listening to the standard “drums-bass-guitar” groups these last couple of weeks. He lets his foot move to the rhythm by the second song, a small smile on his face.

_Well, fuck me, was God really listening to my prayers?_

Jughead likes the simplicity of the artist, it’s the beautiful kind of simple. The old-school brand that doesn’t need much more than a piano and voice filled with intent and passion to make it powerful.  It’s soulful with a touch of nostalgic that tugs a little at the cobwebs of Jughead’s heart. The kind of music where you feel the artist’s heart in the notes and lyrics.

There’s this test that he loves to do while listening to new bands, he closes his eyes and tries to just _feel_ the music, tries to picture the singer and the image they’re telling in his mind. He can see her clear as day. He can hear the smile on her face as she sings, the passion carefully woven into every word, the underlying wit in her stories, he can see her in every scenario she paints with her voice. Jughead is right there with her in everything this artist sings and it makes him smile because it’s the first time where he can feel like maybe this whole tour thing could work.

“Hello everyone! Are you having a good time?” he hears the singer ask, as per usual, to the public, getting loud screams of affirmative responses all around the bar which is pretty crowded now that Jughead realizes. “Well… I’m glad. I’m having an amazing time! Thank you so much Isabelle for having me once again!” The crowd erupts in cheers. “I wanted to try something a little bit different tonight, if you’ll allow me…” she trails off.

A single note rings, making him raise his eyebrows, a bit shocked. _Is that a harmonium?_ He thinks. _No, it can’t be. Who uses Harmoniums I this day and age?_

Humming.

Harmonious and beautiful humming.

_Once upon another time_

_Somebody's hands who felt like mine_

_Turned the key and took a drive_

_Was free_

_Highway curve, the sun sank low_

_Buckley on the radio_

_Cigarette was burning slow_

_So, breathe…_

Jughead’s breath feels like it was pulled from his lungs. Slowly, he lifts his eyes from the now empty glass before landing on her. She’s both all he imagined and nothing his mind could ever create. Her blonde wavy hair free, eyes closed in concentration and her hands laying on - _to Jughead’s delight-_  the harmonium at her side as she sings.

There’s not a sound but her voice in the room. Jughead feels the world around him stop, as if it was listening to her attentively too, enraptured. She’s painted ethereal in the spotlight, unreachable and warm all the same. Her voice like honey is filled with emotion as it covers every part of the building.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he sees a field, he feels the sun shining down on his face and tastes the freedom she’s talking about in his mouth. The rustling of clothes as the wind ruffles them and the lowered volume of a car radio. Jughead’s brain is flying in different directions, softly transported by this girls’ voice, like a gentle lover’s caress.

_Just yellow lines and tire marks_

_And sun-kissed skin and handlebars_

_And where I stood was where I was to be_

Never once does she open her eyes, as if the effect of her voice reaches her too, like she’s hearing the song for the first time. A part of him applauds the girl for having the guts to sing acapella in a show and the other part of Jughead is in complete awe, not daring to move a muscle as if not to disrupt the spell she seems to be casting over every single captivated person in the room.  The girl looks down and starts playing the harmonium once again, humming along to it while he thinks, suddenly, that this is the reason there are books and poems about music, this is the reason music has been around for ages, because of people like her that still make it seem like magic.

If he could look around, he knows he’d see people in different stages of bewitching, just like he is. There’s this moment, this invisible red thread flowing through the crowd and it all leads back to her… and Jughead wouldn’t have it any other way.

_No enemies to call my own_

_No porch light on to pull me home_

_And where I was is beautiful_

_Because I was free_

He can almost taste the sorrow of her song in his tongue as he watches with fascination the little concentration frown on her forehead, how she licks her lips while she plays, the way she almost imperceptibly moves her hips side to side to keep herself on the rhythm, he drinks in every detail he can find. Everything he sees pales in comparison to the feelings that her voice evokes.

_Once upon another time_

_Decided nothing good in dying_

_So, I would just keep on driving_

_Because I was free_

The final notes sound, her hair falling and blocking her face from view, something that irks Jughead more than it should. The slowing motions of her hands are the center of attention now as she comes to a stop, the note lingering in the air before finally dying.

The girl locks the harmonium in place before looking up with her lips pressed together in a nervous gesture. Jughead hears clapping before he realizes that it’s him, his body responding before his mind could turn itself back on. It’s only a second later that the room erupts in cheers and the deafening sound of applause.

The world, as is, resumes its pace.

Her smile is blinding and he feels himself smiling in return, even if she can’t see him.  

“Thank you so much! I’m glad you all enjoyed it.” She says, still smiling, once the roaring dies down. “Unfortunately, we have two songs left… I know, I don’t wanna leave either.” the girl responds to the sad booing with a sweet smile. “So, the least we can do is go dancing, right?”

Her shoulders bounce to the rhythm as she plays the piano. And if listening to her was good, seeing the whole thing is mesmerizing. How she shines on her own, spreading happiness all over the stage. Her smile is contagious and her voice fills him with a sense of peace that he hasn’t felt in a while. _She’s a fairy_ , he chuckles to himself. _Kinda like Tinkerbell._

It ends much too soon to his liking and he watches her leave until he can no longer see her before he’s turning on his friend like a man on a mission.

“ _Her_. It’s gotta be her.” He says, leaning forward on his arms on the table, if he wasn’t so deliriously happy he has found someone, perhaps he’d be a bit embarrassed by the desperate tone of his voice. Archie looks at him with raised eyebrows at his sudden outburst.

“You sure?” he asks, cautiously.

“Dude, did you see her? She was _amazing_.” Jughead tells him, a bit exasperated at the redhead’s careful tone. “She is by far the best of all those bands we’ve seen. She’s the perfect supporting act.”

“Yeah…” Archie replies, his eyebrows moving as he considers it.  “I agree, if you really think she’s the one. She has a really nice voice. Yeah… she’ll be a good supporting act.” He finishes, nodding absently. “Remember the Shaniacs? They were-”

“No. Her. It has to be her. Who even is this girl, by the way?” Jughead asks, a little ashamed he didn’t even bother to acknowledge who he was coming to see.

“Betty Cooper.” Archie tells him, shoving the tickets in his direction. Jughead grabs them, reading her name. _Betty Cooper._ He whispers the name, trying it out on his mouth.

“Can we confirm this?” his brain is already running, looking up at his friend and pocketing the tickets.

“What… like, now?” Archie chuckles lightly at first before growing silent. “Wait, you’re serious.”

“I’m always serious, pal.” Jughead tells him shaking his head like it’s an obvious thing, ignoring Archie’s calls as he gets up from the table to a quieter place, already calling their manager.

“What do you need, Jughead? I’m in the middle of binge-watching Gossip girl.” The voice on the other end of the phone answers after the second ring.

“Why, Cheryl, it’s always a pleasure.” He mocks. “Listen, I’ll be quick. We already have the supporting act. I’m still at the bar. Can we confirm it right now?” Jughead bounces a little on the balls of his feet, anxiety quickly flooding his veins.

“Really? Who are you talking about?” Cheryl has a bored tone and Jughead can almost see her casually looking at her nails with her phone on the other hand. Her royal and perpetually unimpressed air had lost the impact after a few years, now he can tell the slight tilt of genuine curiosity in her voice.

“Betty Cooper.” his voice does not sound that eager at all, mind you. It's merely the static over the line.

“Oh, well… would you look at that? Jughead Jones actually has good taste.” Cheryl teases. “You can confirm. The production has been bugging me about you taking your sweet, sweet time choosing. I’ll have the papers tomorrow. Now, let me watch my show in peace.”

She hangs up instantly but Jughead doesn’t have a single care in the world, smiling and heart beating madly with unfiltered excitement. _Finally,_ he thinks. Jughead sighs in relief and makes his way back to the table, the good news barely fitting inside his chest.

“And?” Archie asks him when he comes back to the table, finishing his beer in one large gulp.

“Cheryl gave her approval, as much as she ever does. Says she'll have the papers by tomorrow but…” he hesitates, flipping the phone between his fingers in barely contained nervous energy. “Can we go backstage?” he asks, pointing to the door on the side, a robust man next to it.

“I can see Big T from here, he’ll probably let us in.” Archie replies, nodding as he talks, craning his neck in the entrance’s direction.

They move swiftly towards the door avoiding people as much as they can. Jughead isn't afraid to admit he might’ve given the stinky eye to a couple of girls looking at Archie and pointing, as if daring them to stop him.

“Big T! How are you?” Archie asks once they get to the door, a big smile on his face.

“Archie! It’s been a while. Too famous for us now, huh?” the guard hugs his redheaded friend before turning to him and patting his shoulder in quiet affection. “Jughead, it’s good to see you again, kid.”

“Same, Big T. How’s Angela?” he asks, politely but genuine. He still remembers the long nights eating pizza and waiting to go onstage, chatting with Big T and the rest of the staff. He cherishes his “rookie” days with warm content.

“Ah, still makes the best pies in the world.” Big T smiles at them, making a _hmm_ noise as if he’s picturing the food. “You guys here for the show?”

“Yeah. Actually, we wanted to ask you if we could go backstage and talk to the singer, we’re here on business.” Archie tells him, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

“Ah, Betty Cooper is finally getting her big shot, isn’t she? One of the sweetest girls to ever step on this bar.” Big T says, sighing in a bittersweet fashion. “Don’t let fame ruin her like it did to you.”

“Hey! We’re the perfect examples of how to deal with fame.” Jughead chuckles, softly slapping his hand on Big T’s shoulder.

“Oh, come on! Don’t be like that!” Archie groans. “We’re not even _that_ famous.”

“Yet, princess, _yet”_  The other man says, a small smile on his face before he nods behind his big frame to the backstage door. “Go ahead, kids. Make someone’s night.”

“Thanks, Big T. We will.” Jughead says, opening the door, nerves making him flex his hand.

They make their way through the small halls towards the sound of muffled laughter and chatter. They reach a closed door with the tag “Dressing room” on it, among several signatures and phrases that decorated both the entrance and the walls. If Jughead searched carefully he might even find the “ _Jughead Jones wuz here”_ his 18 years old self had written in these walls.

“Go ahead.” Jughead says, feeling suddenly timid, taking a step back. The realization that he’d have to talk to… _her_ finally going through his brain, making him gulp. _Relax, that’s what we have Archie for,_ he thinks, _he’s the charmer._ Jughead is way too preoccupied to notice the slight pang of anger the thought provokes.

“Why me? You’re the one who’s all excited, like a puppy or a teen discovering porn.” Archie says, frowning.

“Don’t be crass, you moron.” Jughead pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re the famous one, dude.” Jughead tells him, guiding him forward with a hand on his shoulder slowly coaxing him to do as he bids. “If they’re gonna recognize someone, it’s gonna be you. If they're going to _listen_ to someone, it's going to be you.”

“Yeah, that would change if you got your head out of your stupid ass and-”

Jughead knocks on the door, effectively cutting off his best friend who looks at him with narrowed eyes, a silent promise to kick his ass later. Archie opens his mouth again to say something but the door opens before he can. A raven-haired girl in a deep purple tight dress and pearls on her neck is looking back at them.

“Oh, hello…” she says, shock evident on her face, as her widened eyes fly over the both of them before finally settling on Archie.

“Hi.” Archie replies, eloquent as ever and it makes him groan internally. Jughead watches his friend look at the girl in front of them, the startled expression reflected exactly on his face. “Uhm… we’re here to see Betty Cooper?” he asks.

“V, who is it?” the girl in question appears and Jughead’s throat feels a little dry. “Oh…” she says, a perfect O on her lips, an enticing shade of red covering her cheeks.

“Hi, I’m Archie Andrews and this is my friend Jughead Jones.” Archie says and Jug raises a hand in a shy salute.

“We know who you are.” The raven-haired says, looking like she’s recovered from her initial shock. Archie chuckles almost nervously at her words and Jughead refrains from looking at him sideways.

“We saw the show, it was…”

“Fascinating.” Jughead finishes for his friend, speaking for the first time. The words being ripped from his mouth. “The piece you did with the harmonium was simply stunning.” Betty’s eyes are focused on him now and he marvels at the color of them - _the only detail he had been unable to capture while she was on stage-_  if only for a few seconds before her smile takes all of his attention. He feels himself lose his focus, fighting the urge to just… _stare._

“Oh, thank you!” she says, delighted. “You know what a harmonium is! Consider me impressed.”

“I didn’t know you guys would be on the crowd tonight, nobody let me know.” The other girl says, coolly. “I’m Veronica Lodge, by the way. Betty’s manager and best friend.” She extends her hand towards Archie first.

“We weren’t sure we were gonna come, to be honest.” Archie replies, shaking her hand. “Good thing you’re her manager, you might be in the know. We just talked to our manager and-”

“You’re hired.” Jughead blurts. He groans internally, apparently in the mood of bursting words to cut his friend off. _Please, Jughead,  behave like a normal human being with a basic understanding of social decorum and conversation etiquette._

“What?” Betty asks, frowning and looking back and forth between Archie and him.

“We want you to be the supporting act on the tour.” Jughead clarifies, clearing his throat. Betty and Veronica are looking at them with equally astonished expressions and if he didn't know better, he’d think they had simply… _paused._

“The label and producers gave us a list of artists to choose from. We chose you.” Archie tells her, placing a hand over Jughead’s shoulder, a silent _let me handle this._ Smiling slightly at her still baffled expression. “The papers will be ready for you to sign as soon as tomorrow if you want to.” He looks at Veronica, who turns to look at Betty, smirk on her face.

“Are you in?” Jughead asks her, silently praying to whatever deity that is listening. Maybe it’s forcing his luck but damn, he'll take everything he can get if it makes her agree. Betty stares at them for a moment. _God, if you’re listening right now, I promise not to eat so many hamburgers if she says yes. Please._

“Holy shit.” She says, out of breath. It makes them smile at her sudden outburst, the word sounding so out of place coming out of her sunny disposition. “Holy shit. Are you joking?” she asks them, taking a step forward.

“We would never joke about something like this. We want you to be a part of our team.” Archie tells her, shaking his head, tone serious.

“So? What do you say?” Jughead asks, anxious to know her answer. _I’m not asking for much, right? Just a decent supporting act with someone who won’t make my eardrums bleed._

“What do I say?” She scoffs. “Are you kidding? Of course! It would be a huge honor to go on tour with you.” Betty directs her last words at Archie, a hand on her forehead. “I can’t believe it.”

Betty suddenly makes a happy noise and moves forward, engulfing both of them in a tight hug. Jughead puts a hand on her waist to stabilize her, a bit stunned at her sudden display. His lungs fill with her flowery scent, _how the fuck does she smell this good after a show?_ He squeezes her waist before he catches himself and takes a step back along with Archie.

Betty’s eyes are glistening with unshed tears as she smiles at both of them, clasping her hands together in front of her. Veronica comes forward, hugging the blond thightly for a moment.

“We’ll make it official tomorrow after you have signed the papers but as far as we’re concerned you’re already in.” Archie says once the girls have separated. Veronica’s face shift instantly to business next to Betty.

“As far as we are concerned…” Jughead repeats, looking at her and leaning forward a little before smiling. “Congratulations and welcome to the tour.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Any mistakes are mine.

Jughead is messing with some melody on the ukulele he leaves on the office as they wait for everyone to arrive. He’s had it since meetings had become a common thing for them.  Jughead’s muse was fickle and when his inspiration showed up, his fingers would itch to write down the melody, play it and make it clear in his head. That’s   
where the ukulele had taken residence on Cheryl’s office, much to her chagrin, and he had kept it there no matter how many times she had rolled her eyes at him when he started playing mid-meeting.

Slowly, his fingers start playing a song that’s been stuck in his mind all day, head bouncing lightly to the rhythm. Smiling when Archie starts to hum along the tune absently, it takes only a few seconds for Melody to use the table as a drum, softly tapping her hands on the surface to the rhythm. He can feel the energy bubbling inside of him as he closes his eyes.

_Sometimes you've got to bleed to know,_

_That you're alive and have a soul,_

_But it takes someone to come around to show you how..._

Archie starts singing with a smile. Jughead enjoys these quiet moments when they get to jam out like when they were teenagers in Archie’s garage, not a single care in   
the world for them beyond doing music and enjoying the process, deadlines weren’t a thing and the pressure of not sucking was not a thing. Now there are moments of stress where Melody wipes a tear off her cheek because she misses her family. Archie will sometimes knock more than a few shots whiskey alone as he   
watches the road fly by with a deep frown on his forehead. Valerie would go out at night and not return until the next day, sometimes that place would be Archie’s bedroom and that’s where they’d all look away and not ask questions. Jughead, instead, locks himself in his apartment to surround himself with his instruments or a book and blurt everything he feels into a notebook until all he feels inside is radio-silence and numbness.

_The songs on the radio are ok,_

_But my taste in music is your face,_

_And it takes a song to come around to show you how..._

Jughead joins Archie singing, both of them smiling along with Melody, Valerie moving her head to the beat as her shoulders dance in cheeky little moves.  He can feel the stress leaking out of them little by little as they lose themselves in the song. It’s one of the many magic qualities that music has, in his opinion. For Jughead, it takes the right song to balance him, whether he’s down or ecstatic. His whole life he has relied on music to carry him onwards, without it… he simply wouldn’t be.   

_She's the tear in my heart, I'm alive,_

_She's the tear in my heart, I'm on fire,_

_She's the tear in my heart, Take me higher,_

_Than I've ever been..._

By the time they reach the final chorus, Jughead and Archie have found the perfect way to harmonize their voices. Archie hitting the higher notes when Jughead voice covers the rest. There’s a glint in Archie’s eyes, a certain kind of happiness that he suspects has to do with seeing him let go and sing along him. The connection between them floors and sweeps, a reminder that they’re brothers and that he’s glad to have someone like him in his life.

Jughead lets the song die slowly, the last _Than I’ve ever been_ done by him in a light rasp that sounded more like he was speaking than singing, eyes still closed. A few claps make him jump from his seat, turning around to see Veronica, Betty, Cheryl and two other men that Jughead recognized from seeing them playing alongside Betty on her show.

“That was so good! I love Twenty One Pilots.” Betty says, blinding smile on her face. Jughead fidgets as they make their way towards the table.  “I didn’t know you could sing.” she wonders at loud as Veronica and the rest of the band greeting the rest of his band. He casually ignores the way Archie’s eyes follow Veronica longer than necessary.

“He does the backing vocals.” The redhead answers, coming behind him and patting Jughead on the chest in such a _bro_ way that Jughead actually can’t help but roll his eyes as he winces a little. Jughead also will proceed to _completely_ ignore both the way Betty’s eyes shine at Archie’s presence and how a part of him wants to scoff at this. “How are y’all?”

“We’re good, thank you for asking.” Betty’s voice is a little breathless as they sit on the large table. One band in front of the other with Cheryl in one end and Veronica plus a production man next to them. “This is Kevin and Reggie, by the way. Guitar and Drums. I forgot to introduce them the other day” Betty makes a gesture of self-deprecating nature, pointing at them. Kevin waves somewhat awkwardly and Reggie nods, his hands on the pockets of his jacket nonchalantly.

Jughead silently lets his eyes roam them. Kevin looks polished in a way guitarist usually aren’t and Reggie looks like he would be best friends with Archie in zero to no time. He gives his silent approval and turns his eyes to the little evil incarnate as she softly clears her throat.

“Of course you’re good. You’re about to sign on a great deal with our own Archiekins here. Who wouldn’t be good?” Cheryl says, raising her eyebrows. It makes Jughead snort at her words. _Humble as always._

“Archiekins? I like it.” Veronica says. He catches the way Archie is giving Veronica his infamous Andrews smirk and has to control himself from rolling his eyes. Only Archie would fancy their support band’s manager, never a possibly unproblematic relationship.

“We tried to make it his stage name but he wouldn’t give in.” Valerie says, faking a pout at Archie.

“Yeah, contrary to popular belief I actually want people to take me seriously…” Archie defends himself, scoffing and shaking his head at the group.

“Could’ve fooled me, buddy.” Jughead mutters to himself. Betty chuckles and he realises she’s directly in front of him. He smiles shyly in return, willing his fingers to stop fidgeting.

“I heard that, _buddy.”_ Archie says, narrowing his eyes at him. Jughead gives him an innocent expression and grabs the bottle of water in front of him, taking a sip if only to have something to do with the sudden stupid pointless nerves.

“Shall we start?” Michael, the producer, says with a bored expression on his face like dealing with twenty somethings sucks the life out of him.

“We shall.” Cheryl answers with a saccharine sweet smile. She gets up and starts handing everyone papers. “I left pens in the middle of the table for everyone to sign with. I checked those papers myself so they’re perfect. Let me break it down… Basically, signing these papers you would be agreeing to go on tour with Archie and the bad as their supporting act. You would have 45 minutes to perform, the recommended amount of songs is around 9 but you get to mostly manage that. The first leg of the tour is happening  in two months, this is sort of last minute to be honest.” Cheryl’s eyes wander towards Archie and Jughead in apprehension and he absolutely doesn’t cower back a little in his chair. “You’d also be able to sell your merch in the stands we’ll give you. As I mentioned earlier, the first leg will involve 26 venues and for the second leg… if everything goes alright we'll call you back.”

“Can we have a moment to read this?” Veronica says, all business now with a shocked Betty by her side, she looks like she’s processing information as painlessly as one could _process_ kidney stones.

“Of course. Take all the time you need.” their manager answers, looking at Veronica over the rim of his oversized glasses.

“There you go.” Jughead gives the contract back to Cheryl seconds after receiving and signing it.

They’re come very far with their relationship from high school. They actually trusted each other now, a development that happened after a real serious talk they’ve all had about actually making the band work. He barely looked over papers she handed him before signing anymore, Jellybean often joked he might be signing his death without him even knowing. He usually replied he had already signed the proverbial pact with the devil when he agreed to her being their manager.

“Thank you, Jones.” The papers of the rest of the band follow while Veronica, Betty, Kevin and Reggie look over their papers with different states of understanding. Veronica was looking quite clinically as every single word while Reggie pretended to read it for 5 seconds before giving up and looking at the raven haired girl for her opinion.

“Don’t you dare, J.” Cheryl says a few minutes later when Jughead’s hand moves towards the ukulele sitting on the chair next to him. He sighs, frowning at Cheryl who only gives him a stern glance like he’s some restless kid… which, alright, he kinda is, but musicians sometimes are.

“These look okay, Cheryl.” Veronica comments finally, closing the large document with a smile.

“You sure you don’t want to check those with a lawyer?” Cheryl asks her, moving her hair behind her shoulder with a flick of her head.

“Well, considering I’m one… it kinda has been checked.” Veronica’s sly grin makes her look sort of wicked to Jughead’s eyes.

“Wait, you’re a lawyer?” Archie asks, sounding surprised when she nods at him. “Aren’t you the whole package? ” Jughead gathers all his self-control so he won’t gag at the heavy flirting Archie is intended of using.  

Veronica smiles at him in a way that would make Jughead fidget in his seat, but Archie only gets this really intense look on his face he’s only seen when he can’t play something and will practice it until he gets it right. In this case scenario, thought, he’s not sure who the proverbial canary is.

“Betty has good taste in managers.” The guitarist, Kevin, speaks for the first time with a smirk as he looks at the blonde.

“In friends, Kevin, _in friends._ ” Betty tells him and the two girls share an adoring look before Betty breaks it to hand Cheryl the signed papers. “There you go, Miss Blossom.”

“Miss Blossom, I like it.” Cheryl says. “I shall keep you, dear.”

“You should run while you still have time.” Jughead tells Betty, who smiles in amusement at him. “Save yourself.” he whispers dramatically before finally grabbing the ukulele.

“As you can see, Betty, I need people who truly appreciate me around here. I’ve been around these hobos for too long.”

“Hey!” Archie says, frowning indignantly. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Yet, Archiekins, _yet.”_ Cheryl clarifies, gathering the rest of the paperwork, looking as if she might as well pat Archie on the head and say _good dog_. “Well, kids, that’s all. I officially welcome you to the tour.”

Betty claps happily with a dopey grin on her face, next to her bandmates who look equally excited. If Jughead looks really hard he thinks he can see her eyes being glassy at one point. There’s hugs all around as Archie appears with a bottle of champagne and pours them on some toasting flutes that he’s never seen before.

Jughead barely has a sip after they toast, merely to keep appearances, not that anyone beside his friends will notice or know he doesn’t drink much alcohol and least of all champagne. He enjoys the contagious energy of the room, almost tasting the happiness rolling off on waves from Betty and her bandmates. He remembers the first time they’d signed something significant, how it felt like all the fighting had been worth it.

“We should continue celebrating. My house? What do you guys say?” Archie says when the champagne is gone and it’s time for them to leave the offices. Jughead closes his eyes briefly because he’s supposed to stay at Archie’s apartment today and he really wants to just crash on any flat surface he can find.   _Fuck Archie being a social butterfly._

“Are you sure?” Betty asks, wide eyes, unbelieving.

“I’m always up for a little party.” Reggie says, nodding and grinning at Archie.

“Yeah, I’m sure. You in?” Archie directs this last question to Veronica, who doesn’t seem as inclined to celebrate as the rest of them. She looks over at Betty and Jughead can see some weird unspoken conversation happening before she turns back to Archie.

“Sure! Only if you’re buying, though.” Veronica winks slyly.

“Any time.” Archie answers, grinning back at her. “Okay guys, let’s head out!”

“You coming with?” Jughead asks Cheryl, who is lightly chatting with the producer as she gathers the contract papers and puts them into a folder. Her expression softens at his question.

“Oh no, I have a date night with Joshua.” Cheryl tells him. “Some relaxing before the chaos starts.”

“Okay, say hi to him from me.” Jughead nods before he bents a little to kiss her cheek and walks backwards.  “See you soon, chief.” He turns to the door, almost colliding with Betty and Kevin who are chatting near the door in hushed tones. “Whoops, sorry.”

“No damage done.” Kevin says, lightly guiding Betty towards the exit. “Is Archie’s house far from here?” he asks.

“Uhm… not really. I’d say it’s 15 minutes.” He replies, pressing the button for the other elevator. Reggie, Veronica and Archie laughing as they enter theirs while Melody and Valerie are talking in hushed tones behind them.

The trip on the elevator is passed in a short almost comfortable silence. Jughead leans on the side wall, closing his eyes for a minute before the doors open again, leaving them on the entrance of the building.

“Hey, Jug, you okay taking Betty,  Kevin and Valerie? I’ll take Veronica, Reggie and Melody.” Archie says as soon as they step out of the elevator. Jughead takes a deep breathe. _Act nice, they’re the best supporting act for us. You can’t screw this up._

“Sure. Are you guys okay with that? My car is a block away.” He turns to ask them because, unlike Archie, he does have some manners… most of the time.

“Yeah, of course. We could take a cab there, thought, you don’t have to drive us.” Betty insists, he finds her attitude endearing and briefly wonders if she’s always so soft.

“It’s not trouble. I need to drive my car to Archie’s one way or the other, taking you doesn’t bother me at all. Come on…”

They make the short walk to his car, Kevin and Betty chatting by his side, Valerie joining the conversation occasionally.  Jughead turns down the music that begins blaring on his speakers as soon as he starts the car, feeling slightly disappointed when Valerie sits on the front seat, leaving Betty and Kevin on the back.

“Oh, you’re in a Muse mood?” Valerie asks, raising her eyebrows expectantly with curiosity in her eyes.

“Somewhat.” He simply answers, aware of the people listening.

Valerie knows him too much, especially about his _moods_ as the band likes to call them. Said moods include the battery of his phone dying because he will lock himself up on his home studio, unreachable, only to come back to life with a few new songs, dark circles under his eyes and too much caffeine in his veins. Like clockwork, Jughead will start listening to Muse days before and sometimes during. There’s just something about the band that makes him feel ethereal and like he can handle everything that’s thrown at him, a powerful force flooding his veins.

“A muse mood?” Betty asks from the back. Jughead can see her frowning on his rearview mirror.

“A long stupid inside joke. Apparently when I hear Muse I get philosophical, annoyingly so. I personally disagree.” Jughead tells her, carefully avoiding the realness of it all.

“You say that because you’re not the one making a joke only for _someone_ to start a rant about the purpose of life, creativity, how Tarantino is a cinematic genius or all of those together.” Valerie chuckles when Jughead glares at her.

“Well… in his defense Tarantino _is_ a cinematic genius.” Betty says, shyly.

“Thank you! Finally, someone with a brain.” Jughead yells, lifting his hands for a second before putting them back on the steering wheel. “Don’t listen to them, Betty. We’re smarter and they’re just jealous. We’ll make our own band full of Tarantino and Muse.”

“We’ll be instantly famous.” Betty plays along. “We can write odes to Quentin.”

“I like the way you think.” Jughead looks at her in the rearview mirror, catching her eyes for a second and he can’t help but smile back at her, content spreading through his chest.

“Don’t give him any more ideas, girl.” Valerie tells Betty, smirking. The comfortable silence taking place for a few minutes, the music softly playing.

“We’re here.” Jughead says, pulling over next to Archie’s car with practiced ease.

“How the fuck are they already here?” Valerie asks, frowning as they get out of the car.

“You know Archie, his childhood dream was becoming speed racer.” Jughead kids, making Valerie laugh.

He opens the door to the apartment with his key, music can already be heard from the outside. Jughead is already mentally preparing himself for the imminent headache as he opens the door to Archie’s _obvious_ bachelor pad. _You can be social from time to time, come on Jug._

He has white bare walls, a comfortable couch with a huge tv and a guitar rack  on the other end of the living room. Archie doesn’t really have a home studio, choosing to use Jughead’s, even buying some gear for it himself. Jughead and Archie worked best together and as a result they had decided it would be useless to spend money in two studios when they could have one and buy all the good stuff. It resided in Jughead’s home because if he had to drive over to Archie’s each time he was in a _mood_ , he would’ve killed himself.

Jughead get himself a beer from the fridge after telling Betty and Kevint to make themselves at home. They quickly set to talking and laughing as he stares from the kitchen. Jughead later sits with them, picking one of the comfortable chairs and enjoying the chatter and laughter going on in the room. He thinks that maybe this could work, if they’re already getting along nicely, _maybe tour could work_. He feels like a broken record, but after all he’s been through it stills feels like everything could fall apart any minute.

There’s some habits you simply don’t break out of.

A smile spreads on his face, relaxing further on the chair and laughing along with his friends as Archie tells a tour story of how Valerie accidentally kicked something and Archie’s guitar stopped sounding. His friend, in a break of genius, had asked the sound guys to bring him an acoustic guitar and they had done the rest of the show unplugged. It had been one of the greatest experiences in Jughead’s short life, the energy he had felt that night as the crowd went silent to listen them, softly singing along… he would never forget it. He vividly remembers going back to his apartment afterwards and crying like a baby because the emotions were too big for his chest.

It’s a while after that he makes his way to the balcony to have a cigarette and to get away from the noise if he was being honest. Times like these he wishes he could adapt more to social events like Archie or the rest of the band does, but they simply drain the energy out of him. He needs to prepare himself mentally each time, as if there was a tube inside of his chest that drained as he was anywhere but in his home.

Concerts though… Concerts are different. That’s probably the only social interaction he would never give up. There, he’s not Jughead, there he’s merely music and art. On top of the stage nothing matters.

The night is quiet, a slight breeze cools his heated skin and clears his thoughts. Jughead sighs and watches the smoke from this cigarette disappear into nothingness, so enraptured on the simple action that he doesn’t notice her until she’s right beside him.

“Can I have one?” Betty appears out of nowhere but nonetheless carrying a small smile and nodding towards the cigarette in his fingers.

“Why, Cooper, I didn’t picture you as a smoker.” He says, passing her the box and lighter, watching as she places the cigarette on her peach colored lips.  He notices how she closes her eyes at the first drag, her shoulders relaxing a little.

“I’m not. I just like to smoke from time to time.” She tells him, leaning her arms on the rail, the picture of comfort. “What did you picture me like?”

Her question surprises him and he turns to really _look_ at her. She’s looking back at him, unflinching, eyes a little glassy from the alcohol, but open and curious as they stare at each other. She’s wearing a polka-dot short sleeved dress, her wavy blonde hair braided on the top, black ankle boots and the tiny key necklace that adorns her neck. She looks amazing and Jughead is sure that if someone would to search “girl next door” on a dictionary, a photo of her would appear.

At first, Betty wouldn’t really stand out from other girls, but if you look closer, Jughead realises, you could see the fire in her eyes. He can see the passion and determination in those green eyes, it makes him want to lean forward so he can take a closer look, perhaps, right into her soul. It might be that same fire that made her write that song that enchanted him.

The longer he stares at her, the more fidgety she gets. A part of him enjoys the way she softly bites her lip and nervously moves the cigarette, it makes her seem real under this moonlight. More reachable.

“Well, you seem like the kind of girl that has this whole vocal chords ritual, a voice freak if you will…” He states, putting the cigarette back to his mouth and therefore breaking the tension.  “Kinda like Archie does.” Betty chuckles as he winks at her in comadery.

“I actually kinda have a vocal chords ritual but I do indulge in a cigarette every now and then.” Betty answers with a smile.

“Such a rebel.”

“So… how long have you known Archie?” she asks, not looking at him. Her profile is just as perfect as her sweet voice.

“Since we were little kids. Our parents were friends.” Jughead replies almost in autopilot, used to answering this question a hundred times.

“Wow, that must be cool. Growing up and then touring with your friend.” Betty sighs dreamily. “I’m really glad I got this gig, to be honest. I can’t believe this is really happening, I’ve been a fan of Archie for a while but I sent the supporting act request on a whim. Veronica talked my ear off for two days before I actually sent it, I had no expectations at all.”

“Well… you’re really good. You deserve it.” Jughead moves to look forward too now, sensing an uncomfortable direction in the conversation.

“To be completely honest, this feels a little like a dream… being in his house, being here with you, your bandmates. I can’t believe I’m going on tour with the dude that makes me cry with his songs sometimes.” Betty says, chuckling self-deprecatingly. “Well him and FP3, whoever he is.”

“What?” Jughead’s throat is suddenly Sahara desert dry and he can’t bring himself to breathe.

“Yeah, I know. It’s a little silly, I guess, but the first time I heard _Ode to sleep_ I cried like a baby.” Betty tells him, smiling shyly. “Don’t tell them that. I’m not fishing so you’ll tell me who FP3 either, I’m just… sharing. Too much maybe? Anyway, I can’t believe I’m here, I feel like this is an amazing learning experience for me...”

Jughead’s heart is beating wildly in his chest, he tries to look nonchalant but inside it feels like a cocktail of various emotions spilled on his brain. His stomach twists painfully as he listens to her go on and on about the _amazingly written metaphors and exceptional narration of a story in just one song._

He feels sick, his headache is back. There’s something inside his chest clawing its way out, it feels like a feeling he had forgotten existed. He tries to keep his expression as stoic as he can among the inner turmoil but the longer she talks, the more he wants to jump off the balcony.

“He’s great. Both of them, I suppose.” Jughead answers when he realises Betty’s looking at him like she’s expecting a reply. A part of his brain wonders is that’s how hollow his voice usually sounds. “Hey, do you mind if we go back inside?”

“Sure…” Betty looks a little surprised and a tad embarrassed, but they head back to the party where she’s called by Veronica as soon as they step inside the living room.

The dark cloud follows Jughead inside and he thinks it might be a permanent fixture for the next couple of days. He’s lucky none of the people in the room really notice his lack of input to the conversation as they talk happily and share a few beers. Jughead sips on his soda and eats his chips as stoically as he can while he shuts down every single emotion he can from his brain.

It takes another hour or two before everybody leaves. Betty gives him a small unsure smile, which he replies, feeling a little shitty about cutting her off like that. He watches as Archie bids everyone a good night before closing the door gently.

“Okay, spill.” Archie says mid sigh, coming to sit beside him. He’s staring at Jughead, waiting.

“What?” Jughead asks through a mouthful of chips, frowning at him.

“Don’t look at me like that. Others might not know you so well, but I actually can tell when something happens to you. It’s like my superpower.” His friend  is grinning at him, proud of himself. Jughead chuckles before sighing and melting further into the sofa. Hopefully he’d turn into it like that professor at Hogwarts.

“It’s nothing important.” He looks down at his hands for a moment, as if literally weighing his options. “She told me that the first time she listened to _Ode to sleep_ she cried.”

“Dude, that’s awesome!” Archie says, turning to face Jughead fully, arm on the back of the sofa as he smiles. That same smile vanishes when Jughead’s expression doesn’t change. “Where’s the problem?”

“Yeah… she also told me not to tell you or FP3 because it might be embarrassing because she was such a big fan of you guys. ‘Jughead, the level of depth in those lyrics is astounding, I get transported each time, it’s like listening to a book.” ” Jughead’s voice drips with a bitterness he wasn’t expecting, it makes him frown. He passes his hand through his hair in silent frustration.

“Jug… she doesn’t know.” Archie says softly. “Nobody knows.”

“Valerie, Cheryl, Melody and a bunch of other people do…” He tries, knowing he sounds like a child.

“It doesn’t count if they’re co-workers, man. They _have_ to know, they work with you.” Archie tells him, hand on his shoulder. “You don’t let anyone know, remember?”

“Yeah, I know…” Jughead sighs, rubbing his face with his hands in a sad attempt to get rid of the ball of anxiety pressuring his sternum. “It just… the way she spoke about the songs, man… you should’ve listened to her. It was like there were something precious. I’ve never heard someone speak about it like that.”

“They are, Jughead, they truly are. You know…” Archie starts, fidgeting as if approaching a wild beast.  “I know we’ve talked about this a few times but you can always change your mind, Jughead. I’d love to tell the world that FP3 is more than a shadowman-”

“I know.” Jughead stops his friend, suddenly feeling more tired than he’s felt in weeks. “It’s okay. I don’t need that, it was just… a moment, you know? I’m happy with the way things are. Besides you’re the jock of this relationship, you’re the only built for fame, my friend…”

“Jug…” Archie starts as Jughead gets up from the sofa.

“I’m going to bed, Arch. I’m just really tired. Everything is okay, I swear. We’re okay, forget I said anything.” Jughead tries, eyes silently pleading his friend to drop the subject. He feels his stomach touch the floor when Archie opens his mouth to argue once more but nothing comes out. Instead, Archie purses his lips and nods, allowing Jughead to breathe once more.

“Sure.” Archie says even though he doesn’t sound _sure_ at all.

Jughead walks down the hall to the guest bedroom that’s more his than for guests and closes the door behind him before taking his clothes off and falling into bed like a deadweight.

He knows Archie is trying to talk to him. He’s been trying to talk to him for years now, since they started this whole music career and Jughead refused to let people know he was the intellectual owner of most of their songs. He’s painfully aware of the way insecurity played a role on that decision, but at the time the idea of getting to do all the fun stuff without the weight of the fame had seemed like an amazing deal.

 _It still is an amazing deal,_ Jughead corrects his line of thought.

Jughead was comfortable as the sidekick, comfortable being the bassist of the grand Archie Andrews. It was just the way it had always been, Archie would run around in the spotlight while Jughead lurked in the shadows.

In the intimacy, they knew they were a band, but for the public Archie was a solo artist that had the _graciousness_ of taking his best-friend as his bassist. But Jughead thought he got the best of both worlds... going on tours, writing, playing music and all that without the pressure of the fame, the interviews and photoshoots he saw his friend go through daily.

The way Betty had spoken of his song brought something he had spent his whole life repressing… _the desire to be seen._ All his life he had taken the role as an observer.  Observing as Archie grew popular in high school, observing how people looked at Archie and really believe that he could be the next big artist. Being the observer kept him _safe_ . He knew what it was like and wore that as a comforting second skin. Sometimes, though, like tonight… he craved someone looking and him and being like _oh, you’re here, we see you._

There was a moment when he had to restrain himself from telling her the truth. _That’s me! I did that! That’s mine!_ _Those are my words!..._ He chuckles bitterly at the idea now, _how naive_. At this point, he doesn’t think anyone would believe him if he went and said he wrote most of Archie’s songs. Hell, sometimes _he_ isn’t even sure. Not that he would ever try it.

 _Too risky,_ he thinks.

Feeling weirdly defeated and extremely tired, Jughead closes his eyes.

_He dreams of green eyes and disappointed glances._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy the small changes so far :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.   
> Any mistakes are mine.

They arrive to the parking lot 15 minutes early to the time they were told to be there, partially due to Jughead’s excitement… Okay, totally because Jughead was an impatient little shit that may or may not have lied to Archie about the departure time so his unpunctual friend would be ready on time.

“I told you we would get here early.” Archie huffs on his way out of the UBER.

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you rather we arrived just before the bus is bound to go like you usually do?” Jughead replies, adjusting his sunglasses and giving his friend the finger. “Besides, the bus is already there. We can already put our luggage in and chill while everyone freaks out. Hell yeah.”

Jughead doesn’t wait for Archie to follow him as he makes his way to the buses, barely managing to carry his instruments and his luggage. He’s so excited he can practically feel his skin buzzing. There’s nothing like the first day of the tour, spirits are high, everyone is getting along nicely. 

Later on, issues always appear but for now he relishes the first day of tour and the fact that he’s going to be two months on his favorite place… the road, the stages, the creative juices flowing and junk food all around. Heaven.

“Pops!” He yells, calling out to the driver leaning on the huge vehicle. The man looks at him with a smile on his face and warm brown eyes. “We meet again! You’re going to be our driver?”

“Looks like it. How is fame treating you, kid?” Pop asks, gently squeezing his shoulder when Jughead finishes leaving his things on the side. “You still fighting with hairbrushes?”

“No time to brush hair when I have to tolerate Archie. It’s keeping the fame from going to my head.”

“I heard that, asshole!” Pop and Jughead chuckle at Archie’s words and how he goes to frowning at his friend to a smiling puppy in a second. “Hey Pops.”

“Hello Archie.”

They continue catching up and bantering while they load all their stuff into the bus, Jughead treats this part like a live game of tetris, taking his sweet time to place everything while Archie basically puts his stuff wherever it fits. People start arriving shortly after with Valerie arriving first, looking tired, followed by Betty and Kevin.

“Hi, guys!” Betty looks super awake and refreshed to be 6am in the morning, it’s not fair because he’s vaguely aware his bedhead is horrible and the bags under his eyes are even worse.

“Hey Betty.” Archie replies first, smiling softly. “Kevin.”

“Hello! Is it legal to be awake this early?” Kevin smiles back with the amount of energy any normal human being should have at 6am.

“Oh no, but we musicians must always live in revolution. Also, the busses have coffee.” 

Jughead tells him, getting closer to help them get their stuff on their separated bus. He’s silently grateful they’re travelling in separated buses, travelling while restraining himself would’ve been torture. He still gets a funny feeling in his stomach whenever Betty is near.

“I’m usually awake at this hour.” Betty adds almost to herself, frowning. 

“That’s because you’re insane and go on runs early in the morning.” Kevin tells her, staring at Betty like she’s an alien, as if her skin is suddenly green and not a captivating golden hue.  _ Tangent, Jughead, stay on the tangent. _

“Wow, Betty… I didn’t know you were a masochist.” He teases, narrowing his eyes at her gigantic suitcase and contemplating how much his back will hurt after putting it on the bus. 

“Ha, ha. Very funny.” Betty glares at him but the small smile on her face doesn’t match the sarcastic desired effect. “I like to be healthy,  so what?” 

“We’re joking, Betts.” The nickname slips from his lips easily and the luggage in his hands slips a little in shock, but he covers it by lifting it and finally putting it on the bus, triple checking that it won’t move around.

“I’m aware,  _ Juggie _ .” Betty’s voice sounds like she’s smiling, intentionally pausing before the nickname. He rolls his eyes good naturedly at her, secretly reassured he didn’t step over some invisible line. He thinks of how Jellybean used to call him like that when she was little and the corner of his lips tick up unconsciously. 

“Hello losers.” Veronica’s voice says and they turn to look at her walking towards them with two matching purple suitcases and a black dress that didn’t look like it was made for traveling comfortably at all.  _ Veronica in a nutshell. _

“Veronica, hey!” Archie says, smiling wide at her. This time, he’s the one that comes to help her with her luggage. Jughead moves to the side and raises his eyebrows at Valerie, who rolls her eyes at him before mouthing  _ puppy  _ in his direction. 

“Thank you, Archiekins. Ever such a gentleman.” Veronica practically purrs at the redhead, hand softly touching the pearl necklace she was wearing.

“Here to serve, ma’am.” He replies. Jughead bites his bottom lip hard to keep from laughing. Betty is looking at them with a slight frown on her face, it resembles vaguely of disapproval. 

Jughead ignores the weird feeling in his gut at her look, it’s confusing and he’s not letting anything ruin his amazing mood this evening. Luckily for him, his phone vibrates on his pocket. He takes it out quickly, desperate for a distraction and smiles when he sees the caller ID.

“Hey Peanut.” He says, turning back from the loud group of people to someplace quieter.

“Hey Jug.” Jellybean’s voice comes through the phone. “How’s tour life?”

“Haven’t left the parking lot yet, actually. We’re leaving in five.” He tells her, leaning on the side of the bus. “How’s college life?”

“A pain in my fucking ass.” her words are somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, then. At least your language has improved” He teases, shaking his head. 

“Shut up. Not that you would know any of my struggle, Mr. I’m-in-a-band.” Jughead laughs at her response, turning to see the rest of the luggage being loaded.

His eyes meet Betty’s for a second, and if he didn’t know better he’d think they were already on him.

“You wound me, peanut.” Jughead sighs as if really hurt. “You know of my creative struggles.”

He listens to her complain about college and assignments for a while before Archie calls his name.  

“Oh, hey, I gotta go. Archie is waving at me like a maniac. I see you buddy!” Jughead yells at his friend before going back to his sister. “We’re about to go. I’ll text you soon, okay?”

  
“You better take a day off in New York, you jerkface.” She threatens him and Jughead huffs as he reaches the band. “I love you, big bro.”

“Love you too, peanut.” He hangs up, pocketing his phone in his back pocket, coming closer to the group. “We leaving soon?” 

“Yeah, we have been waiting for you for hours.” Valerie says, already walking to their bus. 

“That sounds realistic.” Jughead mumbles to himself as he watches her go. Valerie always did have a flair for dramatism. “I’ll see you guys in a couple of hours.” Jughead tells the group, his eyes stopping by themselves on Betty, who is looking at him with a weird expression in her eyes. “Enjoy the first ride on it and cherish it for when you’re homesick and tired of people being around your personal space. Remember, no hitting the bandmates.” 

With that, he turns around to his bus. This was going to be a great tour. and he isn’t going to let  _ anything  _ get in the way. No writer’s block, no pretty blondes, no emotional cocktails, nothing. 

Jughead enter the bus, high-fiving Pop on his way in, his band-mates already waiting for him. They get up as soon as he enters and they gather in the middle of the space like a well practiced choreography. 

After all these years of friendship and of making music, they had started a tradition every time they enter a tour bus and are about to leave. Like any relationship, bands take more than harmonic connection, they require love, effort and sacrifices… something they reminded themselves of each day. They are standing in a circle, watching each other for a second before coming closer, putting their arms around each other in a group hug.

“Okay, another tour, guys.” Archie begins, voice only loud enough for them to hear him. “I’m incredibly proud of how much we’ve accomplished, how far we’ve come from playing in my garage, how much we’ve grown as humans and bandmates. Let’s not forget where we come from and where we are going.”

“Let the music we make flow through you, make us stronger and happier. Let’s not stress over mistakes or problems, we can fix them and overcome them in due time.” Jughead continues. “We are stronger together and we know the truth in our hearts, let’s share a little bit of it with other humans, shall we?”  

“Onwards and upwards.” Melody and Valerie say at the same time, making all of them chuckle before Archie and Jughead repeat it too like a mantra. 

They break apart but Jughead comes and hugs each of them separately, lingering a little with Melody who gives the best hugs in his opinion and who often needs them most.

By the time they’re separated and the bus roars to life, Jughead feels something inside of him ignite too. It’s the thrill he wants to spend his life pursuing, the one thing that makes him feel alive. 

When Jughead looks out the window, he can see Betty staring forward with a solemn expression and a talking Veronica next to her. The bubbling emotions inside of him die down a little as the memory of the balcony conversation comes to mind. 

_ She deserves the truth,  _ a traitor part of Jughead speaks up, quickly smothered down by years of self-preservation. 

_ We also don’t really know her. She doesn’t  _ have  _ to know,  _ the logical part reasons. 

Jughead lets a little  _ ugh  _ and closes the curtain, hopefully alongside this topic inside his brain. 

\------

 

The prospect of food makes Jughead whistle a happy tune as he gets out of the bus. 

He’s  _ starving.  _ The cereal and different food on the bus didn’t appeal to him at all today, instead he fantasized about an extra large burger and a portion of fries the size of his head. 

Maybe ice-cream for dessert. Oh, and maybe a-

Jughead is so distracted that he literally almost crashes into Betty, who is right outside the bus and looking like she was about to knock on the door. 

“Oh, hey.” she says, her fist slowly coming to her side. 

“We gotta stop meeting like this.” he blurts out, remembering the other occasion where he almost crashed onto her. “I mean…”

“You mean you need to start paying more attention, daydreamer.” Betty tilts her head to the side and she looks so endearing that Jughead can’t help but smile. 

“But the burger I was thinking of was super sexy.” he replies, sighing wistfully. “I am a growing boy after all. You were about to knock the door, did you need something?” 

“Growing boy? Okay…” Betty snorts before shaking her head. “No, just wondered if you guys were coming down to eat. The rest is already inside.” Jughead follows the thumb that points behind her and in direction to the small restaurant. 

“Well, seeing as everybody has already entered and I’m the only one left here. Sure.” Jughead takes the last step and closes the door before putting on his black leather jacket to fend off the slight chill. “Lead the way.”

“Um, yes.” Betty’s eyes are glued to his chest when he looks up, but she quickly turns around and starts walking towards the restaurant. Jughead frowns, looking down at his white t-shirt but doesn’t see a stain. Shrugging, he moves to follow. 

“So, how’s the bus life?” He asks stupidly, searching conversation for the short walk. 

“Well, for the 6 hours we’ve been I’ve managed to sleep off almost four so… good.” Betty smiles and thanks him when he opens the door for her. 

“You’re a sleeper, good. Keep that up and you won’t murder anyone.” Jughead tells her with a serious tone. 

“Thank you for the faith, Jughead. Let’s hope I live up to your expectations” 

They’re attacked by Veronica when they approach the table, who ushers them to sit and order because she’s starving and doesn’t want to spend more time than necessary in this place. Jughead spends the time waiting for his food people watching and half listening to the conversation on the table. 

By the time his food arrives, he’s positively famished and getting crankier by the second. So he logically doesn’t pay attention to the weird stare Betty is throwing his way at the huge amount of food he had ordered and merely digs in. 

“You going to eat all that?” she asks, biting her bottom lip and brows frowned in concern. 

“Oh, honey. You’re new to this.” Valerie tells her, looking at her like she is just so adorable and naive. “Jughead can eat like three people. Which is both disgusting and envy worthy because he doesn’t gain weight at all.” 

“That’s because I work out.” Jughead argues before stuffing his face with fries and softly moaning at the taste. 

“You mean the annual trip to the gym before going back to your apartment? Sure, honey.” Valerie scoffs and Jughead sticks his tongue out to her. 

“She’s just jealous, I do work out but I also have been blessed with three full stomachs.” Jughead directs his answer to Betty, who is smiling at their interaction and pats his own tummy twice before lifting his hamburger back, making a point. 

“I truly don’t know if I should be jealous, impressed or a tiny bit disgusted.” Betty wonders aloud, looking pensive before scoffing. 

“The only solace I have found is the thought that maybe one day his body will turn on him and he will transform into a huge ball.” Valerie tells Betty wistfully but Jughead knows there’s no real heat behind her words. 

“You’re turning a little green over the edges, Val.” Jughead teases her before pointedly taking a huge bite out of his second hamburger.

Jughead’s focus turns sharp on his food, ignoring pretty much every conversation until he’s covering the last of his fries with some ketchup.

“We like writing on the road, it makes the time go faster sometimes.” Archie is saying, playing with his pretty much empty soda paper cup. 

“We? Oh, you mean you and FP3?” Betty leans a bit forwards unconsciously and Jughead would find it endearing if he wasn’t trying to ignore all the alarms going off on his head. He tries silently communicating this to Archie, who merely ignores him. 

“Yeah. Jug too sometimes.” 

“Oh, Jug, I didn’t know you wrote.” Betty’s attention turns towards him in a second, warm and inviting. Jughead swallows his guilt quickly but it gets stuck in his throat.

“Mostly basslines and melodies.” he says, clearing his throat and taking a sip of his own beverage. As quickly as it came, Betty’s attention shifts back to Archie and even if Jughead is trying his best to ignore the feeling, there’s a twinge of anger and disappointment inside his chest. 

“I have never been on the road much to try writing. Can you write anywhere? My inspiration is so fickle that sometimes I think it’s doing its own thing in purpose.” Betty says, shaking her head in a self-deprecating gesture, making Archie smile at her in sympathy. 

“Everyone’s muse is fickle, Betty. Writing is like a muscle, you just have to make sure to exercise it daily.”  _ Wait… is he…  _ Jughead looks at his friend as he speaks. “It comes from a part of your soul that is not often in touch with your other hemispheres. It’s ironic, really, how much of the narrative is lost because we forget to write it down.” 

He’s going to kill the redhead son of a bitch. Each word that’s so smugly pouring from his mouth is something that Jughead has once said to him. And It’s not even right. He listens to his friend bullshit his way around a speech, he looks like a 5 year old kid using big words without knowing their actual meaning. Archie, only throws a sideway glance at him that’s full of mirth and challenge.  _ What are you going to do about this?  _ it screams. He  _ knows  _ what Archie is trying to do. Making Jughead mad enough so he’ll jump and start vomiting the truth, which is as a good tactic as any, if only Jughead wasn’t as stubborn as they come maybe it’d work. Looking at Betty, who is attentively eating up every stupid word Archie’s saying… yeah, maybe Archie’s tactic is not as useless as he thinks it is. 

He goes off talking about spirituality and Jughead’s fist clenches on itself as he tries not to jump and punch his friend square on his pretty face.  _ Not often in touch with your other hemispheres?! What the fuck is he talking about. I didn’t even know he  _ knew  _  the word hemispheres. Last time I talked to him about different cerebral connections and how they were directly proportional and linked to our emotional side when it came to creativity he groaned in different octaves until I stopped talking.  _

Jughead spends a good part of their conversation plotting different ways to torture Archie in this upcoming weeks. Maybe he’d even plant legos under his bunk so he’d step on them as soon as he’d woke up. Maybe move furniture around in the hopes he’ll stub his toe, completely change the settings he likes on his computer,  _ oh,  _ perhaps even hand him over salt instead of sugar. Yes. Jughead can think of a few things to get even.

“So really all I do is try to get in touch with my creative core and let the music flow through me. I’m nothing but a vessel to the great tapresties of art.  _ That _ is my narrative.” Archie tells a stoic looking Betty as Jughead wants to rip the skill off his face. “FP3 ‘s and mine run the same course. I’m sorry, I  _ always _ talk too much about writing and creative narratives. I just can’t seem to shut up!” 

“Oh, no! Please, this is such a great learning experience for me.” Betty tells him quickly, hand over her chest. “I’m on sponge mode, absorbing every bit of information I can. This has been very helpful. I’ll try.... everything you just said.” A small part of him is pleased to see that Betty seems to have issues with Archie’s obvious crappy speech, but the reality is that he kinda feels like he’s screwing over a possible true learning experience for her. “How did you meet FP3? You guys seem to work perfectly together. At least I’m a fan of your work…” 

“He’s like a brother to me.” Archie’s voice is soft now, all pretenses of grandeur have fallen flat on the floor. “We started writing when we were young and never stopped. He’s a genius, I’m sure it might even be literal but he prefers to stick to the shadows, you see? That’s why he’s only a ghostwriter and not touring with us.”

Okay, so maybe Jughead would diminish the amount of legos he’d plant beneath Archie’s bunk.

“That’s a pity.” Betty says softly, making Jughead’s attention shift in confusion to her. 

“Pity?” Archie asks, voicing his same thoughts. 

“Well, I mean, I’m sure there are a lot of people that would love to meet him.” she shrugs a little shyly, her right index finger making endless loop circles on the table. “I can understand the need to be out of the spotlight, I’m just saying that it’s a pity that he isn’t there to see how his words affect other people’s lives. I know he affected mine in a way I’ll always be grateful for.” 

“That’s what I tell him every time, Betty. Every time.” Archie agrees and Jughead’s sure his friend is looking at him but he can’t bring himself to look up from his hands on his thigh. 

There’s something crawling at him, inside out, again. That feeling he has always fought so hard to ignore, the one that used to make him shiver at night when he could only lay in bed as his parents had shouting matches in the kitchen, the one that later turned him into a self-sufficient loner who fought to keep his sister afloat. 

It’s an uncomfortable sensation, like he’s suffocating under years of repressed emotions and his darkest desires. Around him the chatter becomes lighter, unaware of the invisible gash on Jughead’s mood. He takes a deep breath, willing his brain to  _ fucking chill  _ when he notices people starting to stand to leave. 

Jughead follows Archie and the rest of the band onwards to their own bus, too caught up in his own head to notice the sudden crowd of people in the near vicinity of the restaurant. The sudden screams and screeches make him look up and instantly asses the situation. 

_ Okay, so we’re not  _ that _ far from the busses. Maybe we could stop, make the crowd happy then- _

There’s a moment in which the crowd moves forward when Archie smiles at them warmly, almost engulfing him. Archie though, is smart enough to always have a little space between them, leaving his back free. Jughead looks as his friend starts chatting, taking selfies and signing autographs, a physical reminder of what he’s spent his life trying to avoid. It feels like a bucket of freezing water being thrown at him. 

“Guys, guys!” Betty’s frantic voice makes him turn around in alarm.

He’s unable to see her until, in the middle of a crowd, he sees a flash of blonde hair and panicked green eyes. She’s been caught up in the crowd the way Archie used to when they first started and he didn’t know how to manage people. It irks something deep inside of him and  Jughead’s moving before he even fully consciously decides to. His feet carry him closer to the crowd, trying to make his way in towards her.

He’s careful not to punch anyone, knowing it’d only bring more problems if word broke out but he’s sorely tempted when Betty catches a glimpse of him trying to get to her and she positively deflates in relief.

“Jug!” she cries out, trying to push her way out of the circle of people that keep taking photos and telling her things trying to catch her attention.  _ Can’t they see she is not comfortable? What is wrong with people?  _

“GUYS! We’re on a schedule. Betty needs to get on the bus now, please let her through.” Jughead says, loud and in a non-bullshit tone. Everybody is looking at him with different levels of glares but some of them move aside, finally letting Betty close enough for him to hold onto her forearms and pull her out of the horde of people. He’s not completely sure if it was his tone that made them pay attention or his possibly murderous face the one that melts as soon as Betty is within reach. “Let’s get moving before they change their mind.” he tells her softly because she still looks a little bit frightened on top of relieved and he curls his arm on her waist to securely guide her to her bus while making sure nobody grabs her. 

“Thank you Jug. This has never happened before.” she tells him, burying closer to him, and if he wasn’t pissed he’d take his sweet time to savour the feel of her body against his. Her big green eyes are wide open as they stare up at him, apologetic. 

“You don’t have to thank me. Crowds can get pretty wild sometimes, I’m just glad you’re okay, Betts.” he says, finally reaching her bus after their quick walk towards it. He nods at Kevin, who is looking concerned at Betty, silently telling him she’s alright. “Next time try not to go alone, Lord knows I’m not interested in looking for another supporting show. See, Betty?” he points to himself as she moves turns to look at him, now at eye level after climbing one step onto the bus. “Selfish.” 

Betty smiles, now looking more relaxed even as she plays with her fingers. He can see a slight trembling there that wasn’t before and he fights against the desire to wrap her hands in his, to hold her close until her surely erratic heartbeat is calm again. 

“I will try my best.” She looks up at the sound of a voice that Jughead can’t make up what they’re saying, his focus solely on her and the barely there jump she does at the sound. “Thank you again, Jug.” 

A kiss is pressed on his cheek before he has time to react and then she’s turning around and flying up the remaining stairs onto the bus, leaving a stunned Jughead with a racing heartbeat. 

He clears his throat for must be the hundredth time in just the little time he’s spent near the vicinity of Betty Cooper. 

_ You’re definetely fucked, man,  _ a little voice tells him inside his head, making him huff and finally turn around in the direction to his bus.

_ Shut up,  _ he thinks back. It sounds flat even to himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, life kicked my butt this week and I was unable to do anything in my free time other than chill before I got a mental breakdown, lol.   
> Here's chapter 3, hope you enjoy :)  
> -C


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.   
> Any mistakes are mine.

Jughead adjusts the beanie on his head as he enters the venue for tonight, pushing his backpack higher on his back. He feels a little naked not carrying his instruments but the roadies have forbid him to carry them,  _ it would be hard to organize ourselves _ they said. Jughead scoffs once more, trying not to be too frustrated. He cares about his instruments, so what? Sue him.

He follows the signs towards the dressing rooms to leave his backpack. Archie is already there draped on the sofa  next to Valerie and Melody. All of them raise their eyebrows at Jughead’s lateness but he had tried to convince the roadies to let him take  _ at least  _ his guitar. It obviously hadn’t worked.

“Guys, sound-check in five, okay?” Trev, their main sound guys tells them. “Hey, Jug? Rescued this for you, please stop terrorising my roadies.” He lifts an ukulele and Jughead almost trips on his haste to get to it, cooing softly as he wraps his hands over it. 

“Oh Trev. You’re the best. Would you marry me?” Jughead says, sighing happily and testing the strings to see if it was in tune which rapidly turns into him trying out a random melody. 

“I’m sorry man, I don’t think Sarah would like that.” Trev answers, smirking.

“Uhm-I was asking the ukulele, Trev.” Jughead jokingly tells him as if Trev had just said he liked to kick puppies for fun. “Thank you, man.”

“No worries, now stop pestering my roadies and don’t make me regret this.” Trev points his index finger at him somewhat menacingly. Jughead lifts the hand not holding the ukulele in surrender.  

With that, Trev leaves and Jughead turns to his band with a smirk on his face.

“I told you I was his favorite.” He states, still smiling smugly. 

“Oh, come on. You only are his  _ “favorite” _ because if he doesn’t give you a ukulele you would fidget and be all antsy until the show.” Valerie tells him, huffing as she applies her makeup.

“Oh, Val, you got a little green on your face, dear. Might want to conceal that.” Jughead teases, narrowly avoiding the stress ball that she throws at him. “Hey! No injuring the musical genius.” 

“Jerk.”

“Children, please.” Archie says, amused. “Should we start heading for soundcheck?”

“Yes please. There might even be adults there.”” Melody says, getting up from the small couch in the room and glaring at Valerie and Jughead who are making silly faces at each other.

* * *

 

It takes another 15 minutes for soundcheck to start, they’re going in first so when Betty’s band comes in, they can leave it ready on their settings for the supporting show. Being the main act takes longer to soundcheck because everything needs to be  _ perfect.  _ Jughead doesn’t really mind, though, he often leaves with his skin buzzing underneath, anxious for the show to start.

“Archie, guitar please.” Trev asks over the headphones and Archie starts playing a song of theirs. “Okay, now play it like you mean it.”

Archie starts to play his solo part on the same song, Jughead moves his head softly to the beat, enjoying the song and absently singing along to it, smiling at the weird faces Archie makes when he plays. It’s something of an inside joke where Jughead and the band will gather and see who finds the weirdest picture of Archie in a show. 

“Great, now come forward to the mic, please.” Trev moves around the stage with a tablet in his hands, checking the cables are out of the way on the scenario and everything looks okay. “Wait, let’s bring Jug’s bass forward first.”

Jughead starts playing after Trev nods at him, giving him the ok. Starting softly then playing harder with a melody he’s been fooling around with. A few seconds later Archie joins him, doing a base rhythm with the guitar. Jughead looks at him, smiling, moving side to side to what they’re playing and Archie starts shaking his shoulders jokingly. 

One of their great qualities is that Archie and him have always been in sync, making it a wonderful musical partnership and it certainly made it easy for when one of them messed up, the other would instantly cover up. There was a sweet spot, a balance that identified them ever since they became friends. Archie was Jughead’s anchor as Jughead was his. 

Trev himself is moving his head to the rhythm absently while he moves faders on his tablet and yells different orders to the crew. Melody joins in with drums when Trev nods at her, already being mic’d, and they’re off playing an almost song he’s sure they will be perfecting on the road later. Suddenly, there’s abrupt silence and an annoyed-looking Trev staring at them.

“Guys, you can jam later…” Trev says, moving towards a cable and moving out of the way. “Now, Jughead, your guitar…”

“Damn, Sargent, okay.” Jughead teases, leaving his bass on the side and grabbing Taylor, his prefered guitar. “Should I test the pedals too?” he asks.

“Please do, we need to check the connections are right before we move on to the other guitars.”

They work like that, pleasantly playing and joking around, annoying Trev more than once. At one point Archie drops himself on the bass drum and Melody starts playing anyway, making his body move with each hit on the drum, Valerie is in tears next to them and Trev shaking his head and mumbling something about kindergarten. 

“Okay… I’m done with you children. I need to bring the new kids here now. Move out of my way.” Trev signals behind Jughead and he turns around, his smile vanishing a little. 

He hadn’t realized Betty and her band were on the side watching them and he’s suddenly self-conscious of how they’d behaved. Logically he knows he has nothing to worry about, that later tonight he’ll be under the watchful eye of a lot of people,  _ that  _ should freak him out more. But as his eyes meet Betty’s, his throat dries a little at her shiny eyes and smile.

Jughead smiles awkwardly at her quickly, turning to leave his bass on the stand next to their guitars for the roadies to put aside and try to reason with himself that this is not something to get nervous over. At all. 

It’s not working. 

“Hey, that was really great what you did back there.” Kevin approaches him. “I really like that chord progression. Groovy.”

“Thanks, man. It’s fun to let go of anxieties before the show, I recommend it.” Jughead tells him. “Plus, making Trev angry is a hobby of mine.” Jughead winks at Kevin playfully. 

Suddenly a high-pitched noise, feedback from somewhere on the stage, is right in his headphones which are still in his ears. Jughead hisses, taking the earbuds off quickly, his ears ringing a little as he winces.

“Shit.” He curses, wincing as he puts his fingers over his ear, trying to make the soft ringing stop without success. He looks around for the source and Trev until he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Betty asks him, looking intently at his ear. Her hand hovers for a second and with a gentle finger she moves his face to the side to see his ear better. He feels her warmth on his skin like a brand, the way her fingertips scorch the contact points, all pain forgotten. Suddenly everything is in high definition as he meets her eyes for a second. Betty takes her hand from his jaw as if realising what she’s doing just now and he winces again, the pain coming back as soon as her touch leaves him. He tries not to over-analyze the reactions of his traitor body.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just caught me off-guard.” Jughead gives Trev a thumbs-up when he looks in his direction, giving him a reassuring smile that makes his friend sag with relief. “How are you feeling about tonight?”

“Scared shitless.” Betty says, sighing with a slight pout to her rosy mouth. Jughead laughs, shocked that someone with such a soft and careful exterior would curse so freely. 

“Yeah, exactly that.” Kevin says, looking at Betty with a smile.

“We’ve never done a crowd like this.” Betty adds. “I’m nervous.” As if Jughead hadn’t already noted about 4 nervous movements from her in the short time they’ve been speaking. 

“Really? Well… I’m sure you’ll do just fine. I’ve seen you live, you’re mesmerizing. Thirty people or a thousand… you’ll still knock them out.” Jughead reassures her, smiling softly, silently admiring the way her eyes soften. Kevin clears his throat next to them and he looks at him. “You’re great too, Kev, but people are going to be in awe because of her… we’re just there to help them.”

The word sting more than they should at this point and Jughead stops for a second as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Betty is frowning at him, while Kevin simply nods like he’s contemplating his answer. She opens her mouth to talk and-

“Guys, could you come over here?” Trev shouts at Betty and Kevin. Jughead can’t help but be relieved that he’ll be able to escape whatever she was about to unload on him.

“I’ll see you around.” Kevin says, walking off with a slight bounce in his step, not at all bothered or noticing Jughead’s inner turmoil. 

“Hey…” Betty says softly, bringing him back to the situation. He swallows the nerves that are rising. “From what little I’ve seen I can tell you’re a great musician, people don’t just go to watch the singer. Without our band, we wouldn’t be anywhere so…   yeah.” Betty finishes awkwardly, pursing her lips together and pointing behind her. “I’m needed over there. I’ll see you later, Jug.”

“Good luck.” He tells her, not knowing how to react exactly.

Jughead watches her go for a moment before heading to the dressing rooms. He rubs his eyes, trying to calm down, his heart is beating rapidly inside him. Jughead hates the effect this girl has over him. First that scene on the balcony now this… nobody has even gotten under his skin this quickly. It’s like his knee-jerk reactions have become a need to be seen by her, even if it means throwing years of habits to the ground. 

Jughead growls in frustration, passing his hands through his hair and messing it up even more.  _ Stupid hormones _ , he thinks _ , they’ll get me in trouble. _

The way she knows exactly what to say to make his brain short-circuit and suddenly he’s re-evaluating his life choices. Jughead huffs to himself, trying to stop his brain from going somewhere he doesn’t want or  _ need  _ before a show.  _ Be professional. _

“Jug, wait!” Archie shouts and Jughead honest to God breathes out in relief over the distraction. “You headed to the dressing room?”

“Yeah. Why?” Jughead asks, stopping to let his friend catch up with him.

“Nothing much, just wanted to talk to you about the melody we did back there. I loved it, think you can remember it?”

“Sure, it’s been roaming around in my head for a few days now. Let’s go.” he encourages his friend, grateful for the distraction. 

Jughead gets lost in the music and locks his feelings in a box deep inside his brain, tossing the metaphorical key to the sea.

* * *

 

He’s sweating terribly after one hell of a first show but his heart is extremely full and he has the biggest smile on his face, it feels like every single care and problem has been sweated out of his system. The concert had gone without a hitch and he couldn’t be happier. It feels like coming home every time. His heart feels too big for his chest as he walks behind the stage, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the shirt he had taken off as soon as he had left the stage. 

“Hey…” Jughead is a little ashamed that he actually jumps a little at her voice, turning around quickly to face her. Betty is now dressed in some yoga pants and a hoodie, having changed after her –  _ amazing  _ – first supporting concert. He’s self-conscious about the way his black tank top clings to his chest, wishing he hadn’t discarded the plaid shirt. His fingers cling to the item nervously 

“Oh, hey. Sorry I didn’t catch you after you played, everything was a bit chaotic. You guys were incredible.” He compliments, smiling at her. Jughead moves, letting some roadies pass with a heavy box and he’s suddenly in front of her.  _ Professional, Jughead, be professional.  _

“Thank you.” Betty says, tucking her hair behind her ears.  _ Is that a blush?  _  “You guys sound amazing live, I had never seen you. Just listened to your albums.”

“Well, supporting show and seeing us live? They do say “go big or go home” I guess” Jughead replies, chuckling along with her and trying not to rub his neck in a nervous gesture.  _ Where is all this tension coming from? Jesus Christ.  _

“Yes, I’m very lucky.” Betty tells him, pausing for a moment before continuing, a contemplating glint in her eyes as she looks to be gathering courage. “And I was right, you know…”

“I’m sure you were, but about what?” Jughead asks, confused, now his hand scratching the nape of his neck. Betty’s eyes might have flown over his arm for a hot second but he’s not entirely sure.

“I totally would’ve come to see you too, not just Archie. You were…  _ mesmerizing  _ as well.” Betty smiles at him, amusement in her eyes, the use of his wording not being lost on him.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” Jughead says, voice a little breathy which he is totally atributting to the fact that he’s tired from the show. They stare at each other and he notices her eyes are greener than he initially thought, the way her cheeks are still a little pink from exertion and how she fists the sleeves of her hoodie in her hands. He doesn’t think he can see anything but honesty in her eyes, which honestly just makes it a little worse.  _ You haven’t been honest with her,  _ he thinks sourly, the weight of not being even heavy on his shoulders.  It’s a roadie gently asking them to move aside so he can maneuver part of the drums that breaks the spell and Jughead’s fall into a deep, dark guilt hole.  “Uhm… I should go change…” he tells her, suddenly aware of his state. The clothes cling to him and he just wants to flee, he can feel his brain preparing to do reckless stuff like unload his deepest secrets to the pair of green eyes he just met not two months ago.

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll go find Kevin.” She replies, taking a step back. Jughead does the same, he turns around to walk away before he stops and looks in her direction again, driven by something bigger than himself, not sure he’s 100% conscious as he speaks.

“Hey Betty.” He calls her and she turns around, her wide eyes on him. “We’re doing movie night later. Would you like to join us?” He asks her on a whim, registering the surprise in her eyes. “You can tell the others too…” he adds quickly, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

“Sure… sure, we’ll meet you there.” She says finally biting her lower lip through a breathtaking smile.

Jughead nods at her before finally making his way to the dressing rooms, a flutter in his stomach that he tries to attribute to the post-show excitement and that totally has nothing to do with the interaction that took place seconds ago nor the interaction’s smile. 

That same night, as they all hang out watching a movie in Archie’s room, if Jughead sits next to Betty all night, well… denial is something he’s very comfortable with. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much the kind comments about this fic, people. They warm my heart so much <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Any mistakes are mine.

Jughead is eating oreos, sitting on a bench, as he watches the crew unload things onto the new venue, he slightly feels like an asshole but hey, he had been banned from touching equipment, so eating oreos it is. The not-so-soft lull of the baggage and trunks being carried comforts him in a weird way.

 

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he takes it out, seeing it’s a message from Jellybean, specifically a photo of her eating a PB&J sandwich with a wild evil face, imitating a “ _ gangsta _ ” pose. Jughead laughs aloud, almost choking on a cookie, hand to his chest as he clears his throat to sooth the sudden ache. 

 

_ *GASP* CANNIBAL! HOW DARE YOU EAT YOUR PROCESSED COUSIN?  _ he types back, grinning like a fool at the inside joke. 

_ He served his purpose, Jughead. Cousin John McBread sacrificed his life to abate my college student hunger,  _ his sister replies, making him snort loudly. 

 

“You must miss her a lot.” Betty speaks, suddenly behind him. He’s a little startled, he hadn’t seen her. She has a little smile on her face as she sits next to him on the bench, Jughead narrows his eyes at her, silently trying to figure out if she enjoys making him jump from time to time. 

 

“If you keep that going I’m going to put a bell on you.” He says, smiling back at her before shrugging and looking down at his phone again. “Yeah, I do. It’s the life on the road, you’ll get used to it.. a little. Want one?” Jughead offers her a cookie with raised eyebrows. Tour life has taught him to share his food, sadly and very very reluctantly. Betty simply shakes her head no, her eyes moving to somewhere behind him.

 

“It still must be hard to have your girlfriend miles away for  _ months _ .” Betty manages to both make a face and still remain somewhat stoic, which frankly fucks up with Jughead’s brain a little.  _ Wait, what? _

 

“Wait, what?” He echoes his thoughts, his brain finally catching up.  _ Girlfriend? _

 

“Your girlfriend? The one you’re texting and call  _ Peanut _ ?” Betty looks at him for a second like he’s grown a second head then suddenly becomes very interested in a stain the bench has. Jughead’s brain takes painful precious seconds to process the information in which he’s left looking at Betty open mouthed and a confused frown on his face. 

 

“Oh,  _ oh.  _ No, no, no.” He starts, talking fast and panicky, Jughead can see his hands gesturing wildly. He’s  _ so  _ stupid. “I was talking to my  _ sister _ .” 

 

“You call your sister peanut?” She asks, looking back at him with narrowed eyes but the glint of amusement seems to go back into them, even if a bit clouded by wariness. 

 

“It’s a long story.” Jughead starts, suddenly embarrassed and passing his hand through his hair just to  _ do  _ something. “Both of us have horrible first names, so when I got the nickname Jughead she wanted one too.” he smiles a little at the memory of a pouting pig-tailed Jellybean asking-No, _ demanding _ a nickname. “We started calling her Jellybean for some reason... At that time she was like 5 and completely obsessed with peanut butter and  _ jelly  _ sandwiches… you see where this is going right?” Jughead asks, chuckling a little. Betty is biting her lower lip as she nods. “Anyhow, I started calling her peanut just to bother her and it stuck… We have this whole thing where I send her pictures of PB&J sandwiches or she does and I call her a cannibal. It’s our thing. See?” Jughead takes his phone again and shows her the picture of Jellybean he was just seeing, making Betty finally laugh at their antics. Jughead’s heart skips a bit at the sound and the way she’s leaning close to see the screen. 

 

“Cannibal?” Betty asks, a full smile on her face and Jughead feels like he can breathe again. His panic subsiding as her smile becomes unrestrained. 

 

“It’s our thing, I don’t know. But you are right, I do miss her.” Jughead shrugs, the longing hitting him in his chest with renewed force. “No girlfriends at the moment, though.” he adds as an afterthought, fidgeting internally at the way Betty’s eyes shift and land on him, the pressure of her focus heavy on him. Jughead swallows, suddenly being unable to breathe properly and tries to change the subject. “She’s studying in NYU, I’m spending my day off with her after the show.” 

 

“Oh, that’s right, we have that show in what?... Two weeks?” Betty asks, taking an oreo from him, the smell of her perfume hits his nose and he tries to take a deep breath without looking like a creep.  _ This has to be either the beginning of a bad joke or I’m halfway into a rom-com movie,  _ he thinks sourly to himself.

 

“Yeah, two weeks. I’m looking forward to it.” Jughead nods, grabbing another oreo and definitely  _ not  _ eating his possible feelings. “What about you, do you have siblings?” 

 

“Yeah, my sister. She’s back at home, happily married and mother of two.” She says, a soft smile appearing on her face as she looks over his shoulder, surely picturing her family. “We talk every week but we don’t see each other as much either.” 

 

“That sucks. I wish I could see JB more, but I also love the life on the road. Music is a compromise, doing what you love takes sacrifice. ” He says, pursing his lips. “That’s what people don’t tell you or don’t know. Being an artist is more like a lifestyle than a profession. Missing your family is normal currency.”  It’s one of the most difficult lessons he has learned here, and one he hopes he can pass along to her, if only to help her avoid a little bit of heartbreak. 

Luckily for him, he’s not  _ that  _ far from home with Archie and the girls being in the band but sometimes, on those days when for some reason everything seemed a bit useless and pointless, he wondered what it’d be like living somewhere near his sister with a 9 to 5 job. The thought often dies at that along with the shiver that runs down his spine each time he thinks of a life without music or art in it. For better or worse… this was the only path for Jughead. 

 

“I know, even if sometimes getting away from family sounds like a good idea.” Betty says, pursing her lips and he tilts his head to the side frowning. He aches to ask, from the looks of it there’s a story there but her expression tells him better than to actually enquire her about it. Her eyes look sad, the corners of her mouth tilting down and he wants to vanish that expression from her face. Betty looks up, sighing as she catches Jughead’s curious eyes. “My parents are… less than ideal.” 

“Hey, I get it.” Jughead points to himself before continuing. “Broken home. Less than ideal doesn’t begin to cover it but we’re still here, right? And you’re killing it.” He smirks at her and Betty’s mood seems to lighting a little bit as she answer a little  _ right _ back.

 

The sound of laughter distracts him and he looks around, finding Veronica laughing, nose crinkled and all, at something Archie must’ve said while his friend is grinning like a fool, looking extremely pleased with himself. Jughead scoffs softly at the sight.

  
“Interesting.” He mutters, not particularly surprised by any of it but still speaking out loud. There has always been something curious and beautiful to watch in the way two people that liked interacted. Being Archie’s friend, he had seen more than his fair share but the way the redhead’s smile shone brighter than ever made Jughead tilt his head in intrigue.  

 

“What? Them?” Betty says, leaning closer to him to see the couple better. He can sense her warmth from his place, suddenly all senses highly aware of their distance. Jughead looks at her expression from the corner of his eye. “It’s been going on for like a week.” 

 

Jughead is surprised at her shrug. At first he had consider that Betty might be into Archie, the look of awe in her eyes when she first saw him and how intently she listens to him. But if Veronica was hitting it off with Archie and she doesn’t care...Jughead feels a flicker of hope inside his chest and he quickly tries to stomp over it. 

 

“Really?” He asks casually, clearing his throat as she leans back on her place, focus back on him.

 

“Yes. They look good together, don’t you think?” Betty asks before stealing the last oreo and shockingly, Jughead doesn’t mind. Somewhere in the world, people die of shock. 

 

“I guess. Frankly, I hope she doesn’t eat Archie alive. Veronica is a bit scary.” He admits. Veronica was intense and confident in a way that frightened Jughead. Betty chuckles beside him when he fake-shivers. 

 

“She’s good, though. Being a manager… she has to be like that, I suppose. Veronica has lived her whole life being intense, only child of important business parents.” Betty explains, vouching for her friend. 

 

“Archie is a good friend too, by the way.” Jughead adds, feeling the need to return the courtesy. “He might seem like a bit of a douchebag sometimes but he’s a good person. When you get to know him you realise he’s actually a puppy.” He says, chuckling at the image.

 

“He looks like a ginger golden retriever, right?” Betty jokes making Jughead burst out laughing at the accuracy. “I trust your judgement, Jug. Veronica will kick his ass if he does something stupid, so I don’t have to worry about protecting her honor.” 

 

Jughead widens his eyes as if in terror. “I think I might have to warn Archie.”

 

The sound of her laughter follows him all evening.

 

* * *

It feels like a dam has been broken.

After their talk, they start to get together more. If Jughead didn’t know better, he’d think Betty looked almost relieved and more comfortable around him now, like a worry had been eased and they had somehow begun on a clean slate. He becomes her unspoken tour guide, giving her tips and reassuring her whenever he could see her getting anxious before a show. 

 

Just two days ago, he had found her on a deserted part of the big venue they were playing, staring at the stage the crew was building. A thoughtful look on her face, she looked preoccupied, lost on her thoughts and so very close to sad that Jughead could not for the life of him ignore her. 

 

“Hey… you okay?” He asks, sitting next to her on the floor. “What are you doing here?” Betty looks at him with glassy eyes as if just now realising he was there then looks back at the stage, face half darkened by shadows, softly sniffing and his heart cracks a little. 

 

“I guess I’m… overwhelmed a little bit.” She speaks only above a whisper. “I needed alone time.” 

 

“Oh…” Jughead says, frowning. “I can go.”

 

“No!” Betty says, grabbing his arm when he moves to get up, startling him. “I mean… I don’t mind your company. You can stay, I just… everything else...” Betty makes a vague gesture he understands so he nods and sits back down next to her. 

 

They sit in comfortable quiet for a way as Jughead wishes he would for once in his life know how to comfort somebody, have the right thing to say but instead they quietly watch the crew move equipment and build the stage they’ll be playing tonight and tomorrow. 

 

“I get it… being overwhelmed.” Jughead finally speaks, feeling the need to tell her something. “Sometimes it seems like too much too soon. Both a dream and a nightmare. I usually take a walk around the venues to take the edge off. Hell, that’s why you always see me with my ukulele, I’d probably lose my mind if I didn’t have something to distract me.” 

 

“It’s not that I’m not grateful.” Betty’s voice sounds a bit hollow to his ears and he fights the impulse to wrap his arms around her. “You guys coming to my show that day was probably the best day of my life but… sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe.” She says, shaky breath coming out of her mouth as if her body was trying to prove a point.

 

Jughead reaches out, unable to contain himself, rubbing her back in circles as she takes a hold of herself. Betty leans on Jughead’s shoulder, surprising him for a moment before he sneaks his arm on her shoulders, pressing her a little bit closer to his chest, breathing calming down slowly but surely after the minutes pass by. Jughead’s chin comes to rest on top of her head and Betty moves even closer to him, sighing.

 

He starts humming a melody that’s been on his head for a while now softly as they sit there. He feels comfortable and at peace, the smell of her perfume hitting his nose, her warmth so close and his thumb slowly moving back and forth on her shoulder. Jughead would freeze this moment if he could, commit to memory every sensation and revisit it for the years to come.

 

“What are you humming?” Betty whispers, not moving from his side. 

 

“Hmm?” He asks, a bit spaced out. “Oh, something that’s been on my brain for a while.” 

 

“I like it.” Betty tells him, moving her head to look up at him. They’re suddenly  _ so close _ and he wants to die a slow death. “You have a nice singing voice, Jug. Have you ever thought about doing anything more than playing the bass?” 

Suddenly him wanting a slow death has nothing to do with the way he can’t stop looking at Betty’s peachy lips and all about the wave of guilt that crashes against him. There she is, trusting him with something as intimate as her fears and all that Jughead continues to do is lie straight to her face. 

Every single day. 

There’s a methodology to Jughead’s denial that works only as long as he’s not confronted with these situations. He had figured if maybe he stayed a little away, if maybe he didn’t purposely pass all of his time with her he wouldn’t have to lie. He wouldn’t have to pretend to be something hollower than he actually is, Jughead wouldn’t have to swallow his words and he could happily just hide the little poetry book he had that spoke of blonde hair and green eyes more often than not as of late. 

But Betty’s warmth and light was something he couldn’t deny or ignore. He was drawn to it like he was to music, he had begun to thrive from the way he made her laugh or managed to successfully calm her down before an appearance. Jughead’s very thorough recollections of their interactions were forever tainted by the weight of his lies. Some days they would make everything gray, until not even her light shone through the haze of darkness that clouded him. 

Jughead was not worthy of the trust he sees in her eyes each time they talk. At all. Days like these he no longer knew what he was hiding… or what he was hiding from.

What he knew was that the mirth and goodness on Betty’s eyes wouldn’t be the natural response of people if they knew. Hell, he knew those emotions would fade into nothingness, shrivel at his feet and transform into a venom he is certain he wouldn’t survive. Jughead had worked so hard to get where he is right now, he worked through years of everybody but Archie telling him he wouldn’t make it, that he was better off joining that stupid gang of his father’s and not pursuing a child’s dream. 

Jughead remembers the disgust in his father’s eyes when he had accidentally talked about how he wanted to become a musician. He briefly imagines that look on Betty’s face and his stomach twists painfully. 

Things were okay enough the way they were, perhaps Jughead lived in a constant leash, perhaps some days he was no longer certain of the degree of  _ okayness  _ that he used to call his life, perhaps… some days in the darkness of his bunk he would touch the edges of the comfort zone he had built around himself like an armour and wished he remembered where he’d put the key. 

In his opinion, there was simply too much too lose and if he repeated it enough… things  _ were _ okay.

“You think I should?” he asks, voice low, clinging for dear life to the intimacy of the moment because he’s a selfish bastard. 

“I’d totally be your number one fan.” she tells him, gifting him a smile. And God, he’s the worst human being in the planet. “I bet I could maybe get you a stalker or two.”  

“Wow, Betty.” Jughead starts, deflating with a sigh, beating himself over how  _ grateful  _ he is for the little window out of this topic. “If you hate me, just let me know, don’t be passive aggressive about it.” 

Betty’s laugh will forever remain glorious, pressed against the nook of his neck even, alive in his memories and in the tingling of his skin as he tries to sleep that night with no success.

 

* * *

It’s a bit of a chaotic day. One of those that makes you go  _ “I can’t believe I’ve been doing this for 5 weeks now, please someone force me to make better life choices.” _

 

Jughead is helping the crew with the last touches, 10 minutes before they’re bound to start the opening show when he hears screaming that doesn’t belong to the crowd. Running to the source of it, he finds Kevin on the ground, holding his right hand carefully, pain etched all over his face with Betty and Reggie kneeling next to him, concern all over their faces.

 

“What the hell happened?” Veronica asks, just arriving at the scene with Archie. 

 

“One of the boxes fell on him and he landed pretty heavily on his right hand.” A crew member, who is looking sickeningly pale, says. The robotic tint in his voice speaks loudly of his shock. “I wasn’t able to catch it in time.”

 

“Why would the boxes be loose in the first place? Are you insane?” Veronica’s voice rises, walking towards the crew member like a enraged bull. 

 

“Hey, hey!” Jughead stops her, stepping in front of her to quite honestly save the crew member from what seemed impending death. “it’s been a long day already, don’t you think? It wasn’t his fault.” Kevin hisses in the background as he moves to stand. Jughead winces at the sight, praying he’s just imagining the guitarist’s wrist getting bigger by the second.

 

“Kev, are you okay?” Betty asks, hand on his shoulder.

 

“No…” He replies, biting his bottom lip, the words coming through his clenched teeth both because of fury and pain. “I’m afraid I might have sprained it. Shit.”

 

“What? Oh God…” Veronica mutters to herself, hand coming to the pearl necklace and fidgeting with it. Jughead can feel the cold fury and calculating air around her shift like the predecessor of a tsunami.

 

“Someone called?” The venue’s doctor steps in and moves forward to Kevin instantly. “You okay?”

 

“I fell on my hand pretty heavily.” He explains, pain flickering on his face as the doctor gently inspects his wrist, moving it around gently. Jughead doesn’t like the doctor’s carefully stoic expression at all. 

 

“I’m sorry, man. I’m pretty sure you sprained it, we should take you to the hospital and have that checked out.” He says after inspecting it a few moments more, pursing his lips. Every person in the hallway is looking at him with different expressions torn between shock and hopelessness.

 

“What are we going to do now?” Reggie says, looking around before settling on Betty who’s looking not much better. “If Kevin can’t play, we don’t have a cover.” 

 

“I might be able to play, just give me some ice.” Kevin says, moving to sit up. “It can’t be that bad.”

 

“I can’t let you do that. If you force it, you might sprain it worse, you’d have to do recovery, maybe even tear a tendon.” The doctor says firmly. Kevin looks like he half wants to cry and half wants to punch the doctor on the face. “I’m sorry.”

 

“We can’t cancel the show.” Reggie says, voice hollow and soft, his hair is a mess after he’d gotten his hands through it in these last two minutes. 

 

“Don’t be silly, we just… wing it. We’ll change the set list, I’ll play the guitar in some.” Betty says, talking nervously, hands gesturing erratically as her eyes focus on the farthest wall as if her mind is already planning all the possible scenarios. 

 

“I can cover for him.” He blurts out and every single person turns to look at him in shock. If Jughead’s being completely honest, he’s having a bit of an outer body experience in which he’s staring at himself with his best  _ are you completely mental?  _ face “I.. I know the songs. I could cover for him.” 

 

“You just happen to know all the songs on their setlist?” Archie asks, frowning at him, confused.  _ Oh Arch, if you only knew. _

 

“We’ve been listening to them for weeks now.” Jughead explains himself, knowing that that’s not really the whole truth. He might have been listening to her songs non-stop on his phone. “It’s easier… I don’t know, forget I said anything.”

 

“No, no!” Betty is suddenly in front of him, a woman on a mission.  “Are you… Jughead, are you sure? I don’t want to trouble you. We can just wing it, we’ll make the set shorter-”

 

“Betty… If you want me to, I can cover for Kevin.” Jughead tells her, putting a hand on her shoulder. The most brilliant and beautiful smile flourishes on her face, and okay, maybe outer body Jughead would not completely murder him. He’s not even sure what his brain is doing anymore.

 

Suddenly he has an armful of perky blonde, hugging him tightly around his middle, face pressed on his chest. It takes him a moment to hug her back just as strong, as if like that he could keep her together and protected. He doesn’t really stop to worry about how every single time he’s made her extremely happy, it had been built over lies and half truths. 

 

“Thank you so much, you’re the best.” Betty is practically jumping inside the circle of his arms before she leans back and grabs his face between her warm hands. “I owe you one. Whatever you want you just name it, okay?”

 

Someone clears his throat when he’s about to answer her, God knows what would’ve come out of his mouth, honestly.  Jughead hastily lets Betty go, stepping backwards as if burned. He catches Archie’s eyes, who is looking at him curiously and calculating.  _ Oh shit. Professionalism, Jughead.  _

 

“Guys, you have to be on stage in 6 minutes.” Trev says, frowning at the scene in front of him, apparently having been there the whole time. “Should I change anything last time?”

 

“No, no, we’ll figure it out.” Betty answers taking a deep breath. “Come on, Juggie. Let’s look over the setlist quickly.” Betty grabs his hand before she starts walking, he lets himself be pulled along. 

He doesn’t really mind that it’s becoming a regular thing. 

Damn, she could personally drag him to hell and he’d go willingly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lowkey proud of some of the images in this chapter. Hope you guys enjoy :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.

In consideration, Jughead didn’t realise his crush would level up several ranks just by playing alongside here on stage. 

Jughead wasn’t good at realising stuff in general and his denial often got the best of him. That’s how he found himself harvesting one of the deepest crushes he’s had in years  _ while  _ drowning in a deep ocean of guilt. He was nothing if not an overachiever.

His hands are shaking a bit as they wait for the roadies to give them the ok to start the supporting show -over all, they hadn’t really delayed anything much- mentally revising the setlist Betty had gone through with him just minutes ago.  _ You can do this, you can do this. Double the show, double the joy, right? _

“You ok?” Betty asks, next to him. He takes a deep breath as he’s taken out of his reverie. 

“You’ve got this amazing skill to startle me, blondie. It’s definitely your super power, I’m seriously considering those bells.” Jughead kids, smiling nervously at her. Which is completely mental, he remembers when he was the one calming her about going on stage but at the same time he feels like he might’ve jumped the gun big time offering himself to cover for Kevin.  _ My stupid big mouth is going to be the death of me. _

“As long as I can add it to my songs…” Betty’s smile is small but that doesn’t mean he can see all these emotions gathered around the smooth skin of her lips. “Have I thanked you for this already?” 

“Only like 6 times in less than 5 minutes.” he replies, knocking his elbow against hers gently. “There’s nothing to thank me for, friends don’t let friends do a supporting show without a guitarist.” 

“Right…” Betty chuckles briefly, her eyes moving to a roadie that’s signaling at them to take the stage. “Break a leg, Juggie.” Then her lips brush the surface of his cheek, leaving a hot brand on it, a tingle that he’s sure will last for at the very least a few minutes. 

“Shit.” he mutters to himself, not sure if it’s because of the nerves or the kiss. Either way, he talked a deep breath and walks head first into his impending doom.

 

* * *

 

Playing with Betty was a whole other type of thrill.

He felt electrified each time their eyes locked together, he felt free. The stage was his territory, he had claimed it his safe place years ago when he had first stepped into one and since then he had bowed he would to try to be himself as much as he could while on one. 

He found himself laughing heartily, a sound ripped from deep within his belly, having the kind of fun that would last in his memories forever right next to the happy expression on her face as she sang. Seeing her from the crowd had been enchanting, he’d gladly go off as a broken record each time he talks about it but being onstage with her was a new level. 

Having been playing on stages for a while, he was no stranger to the gist of it and how it all worked. Being here with her, it felt like everything was new again. There was something about her energy and how he could almost feel it engulf him.

Betty was playful onstage. The remaining nerves from Kevin’s incident faded along with the first notes of the first song. She liked to moved from side to side, interact with the crowd and playfully banter with them as possible. Betty was a natural there, there was not one single person in the crowd that wasn’t smiling at her. 

Jughead was no stranger to being  _ flamboyant  _ on stage. He wasn’t the most extroverted person on it, but he did have a few flips he would do with Archie on the show and he’d indulge in teasing the crowd more often than not. Tonight though, tonight he was travelling a high he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

He found himself walking to the monitors on the front of the stage, stepping on one to deliver the solo in the song. But more often than ever, Jughead would catch himself playing as he stared at Betty, moving as she moved and sometimes, he had dared, getting closer and putting them back to back as they played both their guitars in the classic pose.

Betty gave as good as she got, sometimes leaning on him with her elbow on his shoulder, touching him with fleeting fingers whenever she passed alongside him. He would totally be lying to himself if he said that he hadn’t had to rip his eyes from her lips more than once.

His veins were filled with sparks and energy, Jughead truly felt he could probably climb Mount Everest with a toothpick at the moment as Betty leaned her head on his shoulder as she sang. 

It was a slow song where it was just the two of them, him softly playing the guitar and her honey-laced voice right next to his ear. He closes his eyes and leans his head on top of hers, as if compelled. It somehow felt as if it was just the two of them, nothing between but their music, slowly swaying to the music and Betty’s arm lightly perched on his waist behind his back. He’ll sure regret it tomorrow but not a single force on earth could have prevented Jughead from kissing Betty’s cheek after that song ended and the lights had dimmed a little.

When it was all over, too soon for his liking, his beanie was askew and he was doing math to see if he could take a quick shower before the main show.  _ Is there even a shower here, there has to…  _

“Juggie!” The voice that will probably haunt his restless dreams tonight calls and he’s powerless to do anything but to turn around. As he does, though, Jughead suddenly has an armful of blonde. He’s surprised, his arms lifted enough not to touch her in shock for a few seconds before his brain turns back on and he returns the hug, self-conscious of his disheveled and sweaty state.

“Oh, hey! I’m all gross, Betts.” he tries to warn, gentle hands on her shoulder to push her off him. She moves per his request, but moves quickly to grab his face with both her hands framing it. Jughead has a mild heart attack when she leans in and presses a loud kiss on his forehead.There’s a part of him, hidden deep inside that’s shouting bloody murder at him to return the favor in a not so innocent manner. He tries to will his expression to not be as baffled and shocked as he feels, a thousand or so words caught in the middle of his throat. So he just stares at her, hands on her shoulders. 

“You’re the  _ most  _ amazing human being alive.”Betty tells him, shaking his head a little with the momentum of her words. “That was amazing, Jug! Thank you so much.” 

“Well…” he starts, not really knowing what to do or say but stare at her.That is simply becoming an annoying habit of his. Her hair is a bit all over the place but she’s still breathtaking as the first time he ever saw her. Jughead gulps on air, forcing himself to calm the fuck down. “You don’t have to thank me, Betts. Honestly, playing with you was an honor.”

“The honor was all mine, Juggie.” she tells him, smiling at him in such a gentle and honest way he wants to die a little. Or kiss the expression out of her face. Whichever is fine. Betty’s hands abandon his face and he almost shouts  _ NO _ at her action, then he remember himself.

“Stop with the flattery or I’ll tell Kevin you plan on changing him.” he teases, feeling very awkward under her gaze and silently wishing she had kept her hands on his face. “I-uh… I should check if there is any sort of shower around here.”  _ Yeah, that’s okay, Jug. Professionalism, right?  _

“Oh, right, sure.” Betty shakes her head, stepping back from where they had been standing too close. He hadn’t noticed how close, actually. “I’m somewhat sorry you have to play two shows tonight…” she starts and he stops her with a gesture of his hands, which end up landing on her shoulders all over again.

“Hey, stop that. It was a pleasure and I don’t mind.” Jughead reassures her, gifting her a half smirk. “Music is the love of my life, I don’t mind spending more time than usual with her. Well, at least not until something more interesting comes along...” the last part of the sentence is said in a much  _ much  _ softer voice that would surprise Jughead if he wasn’t so occupied in committing every part of Betty’s face to memory.

“Ah, the Yoko Ono you mean.” Betty tilts her head to the side adorably, still watching him as he laughs. 

“Yeah, but maybe with lighter hair… or green eyes.” he lets his eyes move to her hair for a second before coming back to her eyes.  _ JUGHEAD, ABORT MISSION. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? JUGHEAD STOP. IS THIS FLIRTING?  _ He ignores all the red blaring alarms going off in his brain as she starts at him with a slight blush on her cheeks before she shakes her head at him, trying not to smile. Jughead takes his hands back, flexing them self-consciously as he reminds himself of the professionality he is always talking about. Here is Jughead, flirting with a blushed Betty that may or may not be comfortable with his approaches… in the middle of their work environment.  _ Shit. _ “Uh-Sorry, I didn’t-”

“I  _ really  _ hope you’re not going to say you didn’t mean it because that would truly be a disappointment.” she tells him, looking up and biting her bottom lip to keep a little smile at bay. Jughead shakes his head in a daze, even if that had been what he was about to say.

There’s a renewed tension in the air around them, it’s compressing everything into a limbo of timeless qualities, bright as technicolor. His chest feels small, and his hands ache to  _ touch. _ If he’s being honest, his brain is still catching up. 

“Betts.” It’s a simple step forward, guided by a force stronger than he’s ever felt before. It feels like staring down a cliff and not being afraid of the fall at all. Jughead suspects that maybe he’s halfway there and he’s only just now realising it. 

“Move up, chico!” A roadie shouts as he hurriedly carried a wheeled trunk filled with God knows what but it’s effective enough that both Betty and her jump apart before Jughead moves out of the roadie’s way, leaving him next to her. They look as the man goes on with his work before he turns back to look at Betty. 

“Betty-”

“Jug, right now you have a show. I presume you guys are somewhat close to starting so… whatever you were going to say? You can tell me afterwards, okay?” her words are fast like a whip, as if as much as she’s right, she has to say them quickly before she backs out. Jughead smiles at her as warmly as his fried nerves will allow him before he’s leaning and planting a lingering kiss on her right cheek. 

“I will see you later then, Betts.” he says, leaning back a little to look into her eyes one last time before he forces himself away.

 

* * *

 

His ringtone shakes him from his peaceful sleep like a slap on his face. 

Jughead groans, rubbing his face with his hand as he taps his bed to find the damn phone. 

“Hello?” he mumbles, dropping back onto the mattress and trying to coarse himself to open his eyes in a completely useless mission.

“Jughead Jones, as I live and breathe. One would think that having a phone would serve to reach the people you want to reach but apparently you did not get the memo…” Cheryl’s dry voice says.  “Or the other 6 calls I made.” 

“What?” He takes the phone off his ear, finally popping an eye open and checks the gazillion of notifications he has on his phone. 6 missed calls from The Empress.  _ God,  _ he thinks looking at the hour, _ it’s too damn early for lectures.   _ “I was sleeping, Cheryl. Where’s the fire?” 

“Oh, well.” Jughead doesn’t like the tone of those single two words. “The metaphorical fire is on the internet, my friend. Specially if you google search bughead, and let’s not talk about if you go on tumblr-” 

“Bughead?” he asks, extremely confused. Groaning, he sits up on his bed, knowing this conversation wouldn’t end anytime soon.  _ Fuck my entire existence. _ “Cheryl, it’s early and I need you to speak in English. What are you talking about?” 

“You see, when internet people like a couple together they mash their names into a single one. Creating a hashtag, if you will… a ship name.” she explains, boredom laced in her words. “Guess what happens when you mix Jughead and Betty.” 

All traces of sleep vanish from his body as his eyes widen in a whole range of emotions going from confusion to excitement back to anxiety. 

“You- Bughead?” he ventures, wincing at the name. “What do you mean  _ couple _ ?”

“You, my friend, have reached the internet sensation status… Well, of sorts. It’s not like you’re Gigi and Zain yet, but you were trending topic in the US for a little while after your cute puppy performance at Betty’s show last night.” 

“What performance? Cheryl, Kevin was injured, I stepped up because I knew the songs.” he defends himself at Cheryl’s somewhat mix of giving shit and motherly tone. 

“You can pull that crap with everyone but I know you, buddy.” Cheryl uses her no-bullshit tone and Jughead closes his eyes again, knowing he’s fucked. Archie he can confuse and misguide for a while, but Cheryl was way too smart sometimes. “Anyhow, this is my warning you because I know how you freak out about fame and all that.  It’s honestly not that big, but the internet seems rather… enchanted by your interactions with the Stepford blonde. It’ll probably blow over in a few days.” 

“I didn’t do anything.” he mutters, mostly to himself. It’s weak even to his ears, knowing there’s close to nothing he can say. The memory of Betty’s bright eyes looking up at him with a promise on them makes his heart ache in the most beautiful of ways.

“Oh, Jughead.” Cheryl sighs, soft on the phone. “You clearly have no idea… For what it’s worth, I think you two look cute together.” 

“There’s no  _ us, _ Cheryl.” Jughead’s tone, however, is turning more childlike than he like to admit.  _ I freaking wish, Cheryl.  _

“I’m just saying I wouldn’t be opposed if there were.” she replies. “I ship it, as the internet is saying. I do not have time to play couple counselor, though. This was merely a warning call, I can’t have my bassist have a heart attack.  I’ll call you guys later, J-boy, adieu.” 

Jughead opens his mouth to reply but the tone cuts him off.  Groaning, he falls back on the bed and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands before he’s grabbing his phone back. 

He frowns at the unusual amount of notifications. When he opens his instagram, he sees that a lot of new people started following and commenting on his pictures which… weird. Then he does it, the unthinkable, the thing that has him wincing as he types each letter onto his phone. 

Thing is, seeing yourself looking like a happy golden retriever and making heart eyes at the woman you like from different angles is not something he thought he would ever do. But here he is, scrolling through videos and endless photos that are basically evidence - especially to the knowing eye - of his infatuation with her. What’s more important and something he wouldn’t ever even dared hope for, is the way the fans analyze stuff he didn’t get to see. 

The way she smiles at him. 

The light in her eyes as he played next to her. 

A part of him is screaming this is all about the arts, that this is clearly smoke and mirrors, a trick of the light and the energy of that night that made it seem that she might truly like him. But the part that had been private, the part that nobody but them got to see, made him hope. There hadn’t been a later for them after his second show, Jughead had been dead on his feet and the venue was a bit of a chaos when he went out looking for her. He had finally decided to go to sleep and talk to her tomorrow, the smallest part of him still wary of said conversation. 

This is why he never dared hope for anything.

Hope is an infestation in his mind now. It’s deeply rooted in the matter of seconds, nothing he can stop and in a way that doesn’t resemble anything he’s felt since he worked his ass off to make his musician career take flight. Jughead sighs and closes the app  then turns off his phone, knowing he had already done a lot of damage to his psyche in the couple of hours he spent from photo to photo.

A part of him wants to jump off the bed to look for her and kiss her like he’s been dreaming of doing ever since he saw her. He wants to wrap her in his arms and give her anything she might want.

The other, the one that keeps him rooted in shame on the bed, is the light whispering voices telling him he doesn’t deserve her. Jughead has to agree, because he’s been feeding her lies from the get go, letting Betty be comfortable and at ease with someone that’s not completely him. How could he dare to touch her when all he’d do is taint her? Jughead groans at the sudden wave of self-hatred that rocks him. 

Hope doesn’t care about his inner turmoil. Hope now has two legs and a mind of its own, it’s made a home inside his brain and won’t stop until he’s either reaching glory or the little remainings of his heart tossed on the floor. His life history tells him it’s probably the latter, hope begs to differ.

But hope is a bitch. At least in Jughead’s standards.

 

* * *

 

After years of playing music and months of staying in tiny spaces, Jughead has come to deeply cherish those moments when they have a lot of free time before the show in a big avenue. Letting all his energy flow freely before all there lays is content.

Ever since Cheryl’s phone call he’s been on edge so the physical exertion sits well on his shoulders and lungs, it’s easier to breathe somehow, having something to focus on other than the way he feels like he’s being torn apart from the inside out by the mere power of his thoughts. 

They’re playing a very energetic game of basketball in one of the deserted parking lots. Jughead runs from one side of the makeshift court keeping an eye on Archie as he avoids all the roadies who try to make him drop the ball. 

“Archie!” he shouts, trying to bring attention to himself. Archie sees him, passing him the ball and Jughead uses his momentum to land it through the basketball hoop they got. “Gents, thank you so much. I’ll be giving autographs later.” 

“Fuck you, Jughead!” Sam, a roadie, yells and gives him the finger. Jughead laughs, passing his fingers through his slightly damp hair before taking off his tank top and uses it to dry a bit of sweat from his brow. 

“Sam, Sammie don’t play with my feelings like that.” Jughead teases him, “You know I’ve been meaning to ask for you hand in marriage for years now.” 

“Stop proposing my roadies, you menace!” Trev smirks, elbowing him on the ribs. “Play nice or I won’t give you your ukulele anymore.”

“Your wishes are my orders, captain.” Jughead’s solemn expression, mixed with a little horror at the thought of Trev’s threat makes them laugh. 

“Looks like we’ve got company.” Archie jumps in, subtly nodding to where the rest of the crew and more importantly the  _ girls  _ are talking while sneaking little glances at them. “Look ripped, boys.” 

“Ah, I knew there was something missing. It was your caveman comments, Arch.” Jughead sighs, rolling his eyes before dropping his discarded t-shirt on a nearby chair. The small egotistical part of him is urging him to do something stupid to flex, pass his fingers through his messy hair in order to make it look a bit better but he shakes the thought away. 

“Yeah, but you can thank me later for dragging you to the gym.” Archie winks at him roguishly and Jughead throws the ball somewhat violently at him. 

“Shut up, Archie. Let’s play.” Archie’s laughing can probably be heard from two states over. 

They play for another half hour before the roadies need to go to work. Archie, Kevin and Reggie are panting on the side next to him before Valerie shows up, grabbing the basketball and bouncing it around with a practiced ease.

“You up for a little challenge, lil Val?” Reggie teases, moving towards her like he’s taunting a prey. 

“I don’t think you can handle me, Reg.” she answers, wiggling her eyebrows playfully.

“Oh really? What do you say you bring your girls here and play with the big league?” he continues, shrugging as she narrows her eyes at him. Jughead internally sighs because he knows how competitive Valerie is. This was going to get ugly really fast.

“Girls! You up for a little game?” she shouts, calling the attention of Betty, Veronica and Melody. There’s a pause where they look at each other, and it’s the blonde that plagues his thoughts that jumps to her feet first. He’s not sure whether to be happy or frustrated over this. He watches as she walks towards them, quickly followed by the other two girls but his eyes remain on her. They still haven’t had the time to talk, the more time passes, the more he wants the earth to swallow him. 

“I’m in.” she says, gathering her blonde hair in a high ponytail. Jughead is entranced by the slope of her neck that he almost doesn’t notice how her eyes fly over his chest and the tattoos on them. It’s fair, he guesses, as he lets his own eyes linger over the amount of skin her shorts are showing. Their eyes meet and he gives into the tentation of smirking at her. A slight blush shows on her cheeks before she moves to glare at Reggie. “As long as you’re ready to lose.” 

Reggie and Archie laugh in delight and he smiles at her sass, the way she rolls her lips together to keep herself from smirking. “Oh, boy. If you only knew how wrong you are.” Archie says, shaking his head at them. 

“We shall see, Archiekins.” Veronica smiles sweetly at him, borderline wicked that makes Archie’s smile waver a little bit. 

In the end, playing against the girls is very much like playing on stage alongside Betty. 

He finds countless opportunities to touch her, wrap her arms around her to move her out of the way or try to get Betty to drop the ball. Some of those, he’s even inclined to think he could see Betty encouraging the contact, hesitating before moving so he’d catch up, lingering around his arms while still playing to win. 

The contact of his fevered skin against hers is thrilling. His mind, ever the traitor, comes up with a few scenarios where they could be equally sweaty and alone. He shakes the thoughts away, focusing on the game as much as he can while savoring the small contacts.

It’s been awhile since his brain has shifted all of his attention to something other than music, much less a living person. He’s both frustrated and intrigued by the recent development, and he’d even go as far as encourage it if it didn’t include a very much possible mid-life crisis.  

Right now, as they recover their breaths after having been playing for half an hour or so, Betty is next to him drinking water in comfortable silence as they watch Reggie and Valerie banter their heads off. 

“I didn’t know you had tattoos.” she says after a few seconds, her eyes somewhat shyly roaming through his pecs where the rather large mountain tattoo is placed. His hand touches the outer corner of it in an unconscious reflex. 

“I’m usually wearing t-shirts, that’s why.” 

“I know. I mean, I gathered as much.” she corrects herself quickly and he can’t help but chuckle at her embarrassed expression. “Did you placed them somewhere hideable for some reason?” Betty asks, curiosity in her tone.

“Oh, not really.” he ponders, looking down at his tattoo and remembering when he got it with a little smile on his face. “ Uh, I wanted it to be as close to my heart as the design allowed. I suppose it was my first attempt at rebellion, go big or go home.” 

Betty nods at his explanation, lowering her eyes as if trying to read the meaning in the curves of the ink and moves her hand up like she was about to reach towards his skin but drops it halfway, not aware how his heart was beating wildly inside his chest now.  “Well,” she starts, blushing beautifully. “I like it.” The way Betty’s biting her lip looks painful and he vaguely thinks he’d do a much better job at it. 

“Yo, Bughead!” Reggie shouts at them. Jughead winces all over again at the name, the other metaphorical elephant in the room now in plain view as they turn around to look at the drummer. “We need to start getting ready for the show!”

Jughead nods at him in the distance before looking back at Betty, gesturing at her to start walking. “After you, Betts.” 

She starts walking and he does too, following Betty into the venue when suddenly, before they fully go through the door she stops and turns to him. He nearly stumbles against her with surprise. 

“You know…” she starts, a glimmer of something fiery in her eyes. It’s captivating, he finds himself speechless. “Bughead… I’ve been called worse. Just a thought.” 

They stare at each other, the limbo of time he feels himself wrapped in each time it’s just them covers them again… if Jughead were more of a common poet he’d say it was time giving the lovers just a few seconds more. 

“Yeah…” he agrees smartly.  “I’ve been called worse too.” 

“I’m glad we agree, then.” Betty lingers for a second as if waiting for  _ something  _ then she moves to turn around and resume walking but before he can think of what he’s doing, Jughead’s arm reaches out to grip her own and pull her a bit to him. Just enough that Betty looks startled at him, with big wide eyes, waiting for him to talk as he opens and closes his mouth like an idiot. 

“I…” he starts, his heart quite possibly about to burst out of his chest.  “I-uhm. I know we haven’t really talked after… after-”

“Yes, Jug?” she prompts him, all of her attention on him. It’s unnerving, he’s been under the full weight of her focus a couple of times and it still makes his nerves burst alive. Her lips looks  _ so _ soft, he thinks. Her eyes so inviting and warm. 

Jughead, taking a leap of faith that seems very uncharacteristic, leans down and closer to her. He places his lips carefully on the corner of her mouth, enough for him to feel the softness of them but just not quite yet a full kiss. It’s a promise, a nonverbal way of him telling her, acknowledging the way he feels around Betty. Jughead lingers for a second, enjoying her little gasp before he leans back and out of her space. 

Betty’s eyes are glassy as she looks back at him, her tongue peeking out between her lips as if chasing a taste that was never quite there to begin with. Jughead groans internally at the sight. 

“I like you” he tells her, a weight of his chest lifted. “But… the truth is…”  _ this might be his moment, this is where he tells her the truth and… well, he doesn’t know what happens next.  _ “I think we should wait a little, this is your first big tour, I don’t want to endanger anything for you or shift your focus. I know how important chances are for a musician and I want you to take them all” comes out instead. In reality, it’s not really a bad answer or something he doesn’t mean but as Betty looks at him, confused and maybe with a flash or anger before it settles into understanding he feels like the worst human being on the planet. She closes her eyes, leaning until their foreheads are touching, making everything inside him ache both amazingly and incredibly painfully.  _ You’re a piece of shit, Jughead, but you’re a piece of shit who just bought himself more time to figure out how to stop lying to a beautiful girl.  _

“When tour is over?” her words bring a rush of relief into him as contaminated and dirty as it feels. He nods against her, smile shaky. 

“Yes, when tour is over.” he agrees, biting his bottom lip in order to keep himself in check. 

“I can’t wait.” Betty replies. Jughead chuckles alongside her before gathering her in a hug, pressing his face against her hair. Her warmth anchors him, makes his sorrows less heavy. He lets his hands tangle in her hair, which makes Betty positively purr happily against him. 

“We-uh...We should get going before Trev flips his shit and removes my ukulele rights.” he tells her after a while, smiling crookedly as she chuckles, neither of them letting go. 

“We wouldn’t want an ansty Jughead running around.” Betty replies and finally moves away from his embrace. Jughead chuckles at her comment, hand moving on its own to her shoulder- because it’s apparently its new favorite resting spot-. He feels like the banter is a common ground in which the chaos of his emotions ease up a little.

“Hey, it’s certainly a sight to behold. I’ve been told I look like a caged animal.” he tells her, looking as proud as he can manage. 

“Musicians.” Betty sighs, shaking her head as one of the corners of her mouth flicks. 

“Yeah, we’re odd bunch. God forbid you from being one, right?” Jughead pokes her side, making Betty squirm away from his assault.

Jughead threatens her with his index finger pointing in her direction, wiggling it before Betty catches it to stop him from poking her any further, her small fingers wrapping around it before they travel to his hand gently resting there on a barely there hand hold. His heart seizes against his sternum and the traitor inside his brain chants in crescendo  _ you don’t deserve her you don’t deserve her.  _

“No poking.” she narrows her eyes at him, whatever threat was supposed to be there is contrasted by the softness in her eyes and her gentle touch. 

They walk on their way to the dressing rooms in comfortable silence, and if there was no one there to see them precariously holding hands, well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand another one!  
> So, if I remember correctly, this chapter is mostly all new content from the first version of WIBAS. Hope y'all enjoy and once more thank you so much for your amazing comments. I love each one of you <3


	7. Chapter 7

Jughead has come to discover that his version of hell has shifted over the course of the last two weeks. 

Hell was lying to Betty. 

Hell was carrying what felt a backpack of guilt around all the time, one that only grew heavier with each smile she gifted him. 

Hell had started to look scarily like the whole tour experience, there were as many moments that he hated as much as ones he loved. It had become increasingly impossible for him to even understand what he was feeling when one second he was in heaven holding Betty close then the next he couldn’t breathe through the shame. 

Jughead Jones: disgrace of the fucking century.

There was even a time when he’d woken up, sweating and panting, after he’d had a nightmare where Betty was slowly drowning in what were quite literally his lies. He had briefly considered a therapist but he ultimately knew the answers to all his questions and sorrows could be somewhat solved if he only opened his goddamned mouth and told her the truth.

_ Too much to lose. Too much. _

Jughead sighs over his cup of coffee, admiring the dark void it seemed to create and ignoring the absurd impulse to speak to it and say “same, man, same”.  _ Life is not a meme, Jughead,  _ he chastises himself,  _ even if it’s been reaching mocking levels of ridiculousness lately.  _

“Hey dude.” Archie lets himself fall onto the empty chair in front of Jughead with a light  _ oof _ sound. “Ready to head to New York?” 

“What?” Jughead looks back at his friend, confused for a second as he mentally counts the days. “ Aren’t we supposed to go to Boston?” Archie frowns at him like he’s grown a second head. 

“We did… yesterday night.” His words are slow, like he’s trying to explain something difficult to Jughead. 

“ _ Oh _ .” 

He leans back on his seat, remembering the show last night. It wasn’t a special one, even if he treasured every single moment he had with Betty, he faintly remembers this particular smile she gave him whenever the crowd cheers louder than usual. It’s undiluted joy, almost as if he can see the feeling pouring out of her pores. 

She’s such a… ball of happiness. An endless source of warmth and glee. From the gold hue of her hair, the rich tone of her voice right to the way she smiles and closes her eyes while she sings. Jughead feels the eternal gloom he’s been used to live with hiss and writtle whenever she’s near, how could someone like her ever want to be with someone like him? It’s baffling at best for him that Betty doesn’t recoil from his touch at all, even encourages it and actively seeks it. Jughead has been trying how can someone be so happy yet so fucking  _ miserable  _ at the same time. 

“Jug… are you okay?” Archie is leaning forwards, elbows on the small table. “You look bad. No, actually you look like someone kicked a puppy in front of you.”

“Thanks for the subtlety, Archie. It’s always much appreciated.” Jughead passes his hand through his hair in exasperation, letting his sarcasm take the wheel because he’s very very  _ very  _ close to an emotional breakdown. 

“Oh, no. You don’t get to avoid the question, kid.” 

“Kid? What the hell-”

“Stop it, Jug. What is going on?” It’s actually Archie’s concerned face that makes him deflate like a balloon. Suddenly it feels like the world is collapsing on his ribcage a little, he can almost picture the ceiling of the caverns of his insides pulsing and slowly falling. There’s no hope in sight. 

“I…” he starts before some emotion gets caught in his throat. “It’s all this lying.” His voice is merely a whisper, that if Archie wasn’t so intent on him, it’d be lost. The crack of his voice feels like the last drop, suddenly hit by the full weight of the emotions he’s been trying to supress. 

Denial is a double-edged sword. Jughead has never felt so hollow inside and in his numbness he’s tempted to throw a rock at the void, to sense the echoes if only to remember what it felt not to be a complete and utter fake. 

“This is about Betty, right?” Archie speaks, voice gentle. 

It takes Jughead a second to catch up with all the twisted emotions inside of him, so he merely nods at his friend in answer. Archie sighs, making Jughead flinch faintly. His throat bobs painfully, and his bones start to ache as if sympathizing with his brain. He’s a mess. 

“Why are you lying to her, Jug?” Archie asks with a gentle voice and Jughead can feel his whole attention on him. Archie might be childish sometimes, but he was a great friend and listener when you needed him.

“I… don’t know.” he starts, clearing his throat before continuing. He wishes, though, oh how he wishes he could understand what he’s trying to do. “I find myself wanting to tell her everything but then she starts talking about how the songs inspire her and… you should see her eyes shining, man. How could I ever compete with that? How could she ever want me when she has this amazing idea of FP3 and how god-like he is?” 

“Jug, you’re the same person. That content came out of you, I’m sure she’d be thrilled. You talk about the way she speaks of FP3 but what about the way she looks at  _ you _ ?” Archie’s brows rise, trying to comfort him. It feels like it might be effective, his heart stutters a little before collapsing again.

“I’ve been lying to her for months now, how can she be thrilled about that? It’s one of those situations where the lie goes on for so long… I don’t know how to get out.” Jughead tells him. Anxiety has its claws deep inside Jughead’s head by now and he’s watching himself spiral down and down the rabbit hole. “What if I lose her?” Jughead looks around, the idea making him so uncomfortable that he physically fidgets. 

“Oh, boy.” Archie’s eyes widen, his head snapping back in shock. “You really like her. Like... _ really  _ like her.”” 

“No, Arch, I’m about to become the pedestal of Anxiety disorders over lying to a girl I don’t give a fuck about.” His eyes are wide as he snaps at Archie. His friend purses his lips, unimpressed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to snap. You’re just trying to beat some sense into me, I get it.” 

“What I meant was… I’ve never really seen you this torn apart by anything other than your music, man. It’s refreshing, I suppose.” 

“Wow, my pain is refreshing? Thanks, Arch.” Jughead wants to escape this conversation as soon as possible and just… spiral in silent pain. 

“Jughead, come on, we both know all your problems would vanish if you would just  _ talk  _ to her.” Archie pushes, his patience starting to vanish a little. “Look, I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, all I’m saying that she deserves the truth. Specially if you want to pursue anything with her, you can’t start a relationship on lies, Jughead.”

And that’s the whole issue, right? 

There’s been an invisible barrier between Jughead and reality as of late. A thin veil woven with lies and misdemeanours, one that struck him violently each time he came closer. One that every time he opened his mouth to tell the truth, it clung to the walls of his throat, constricting the words inside of him and weighing him down. 

Guiding his every step further and further away from the man he thought he was, in a direction that left him more alone and heartbroken than he already felt. 

_ Hope _ … it was slipping away from his fingers. 

It feels like he’s been trying to delay the impossible, holding onto Betty and silently begging to whatever deity was listening to  _ just give him a little more time with her.  _ The proverbial countdown had started, he feels it in his spine and the way his muscle tense from time to time. 

He can’t keep this up for much longer, specially because if what he feels for Betty is real… he can’t do this to her. It’s not the fact that he’s been a reclusive artist, it’s the lies. This is transforming into a whole new issue. 

“You really think she’d understand?” Jughead’s voice is soft, afraid of the answer to his question. Archie thinks about it for a few seconds before he sighs. 

“She seems like the forgiving type, Jug. I’m sure she’d understand.” Jughead clings to every word, little relief washing over him but not enough to hold back all his dark thoughts. 

It’s that small seed of relief that plants itself in the middle of his heart that is enough for his breathing to break for just a second before he gathers his wits. 

“Okay.” he says, passing a hand through his already messed up hair. He must look as he feels: horrible. 

“You’re going to talk to her?” Archie perks up, smiling at him, maybe even with a tint of proudness in his eyes. 

“Yeah.” He exhales loudly, feeling like he’s signing his death warrant. “Before tour is over I will speak with her.” 

“You know, now that you’ve decided to talk to her… maybe you can talk to  _ me _ about changing our deal.” The hopeful glint in Archie’s eyes is getting bigger by the second and Jughead gives him his first real smile of the day. 

“One thing at a time, buddy.” 

\-------------

New York is as crazy as it’s always been in Jughead’s eyes. 

He’s instantly overwhelmed and for the hundredth time he questions how JB is able to live somewhere like this. There’s simply too much going on. LA is not that much better off because he had managed to buy an apartment in a somewhat quiet town and invested in a nice soundproofing system for his home studio. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Betty is next to him suddenly, an amused expression on his face that makes Jughead scoff. 

“More like a huge amount of people.” he replies, scratching his neck in a nervous habit. 

“Juggie, you play daily shows with over thousands of people.” she tells him, laughing a little in disbelief. He understands her logic it’s just…

“It’s different.” and to him, it truly is. It might as well be two different worlds. “When I’m up there I’m not… me, I guess. It’s a controlled environment where I do what I love.” 

“Hm.” Betty looks somewhere above his shoulders, pensive look on her face as she processes his words. “I can respect that. It is different, I feel free on stage. I’m not usually as carefree as I am when I’m on a show.”

“Exactly.” he smiles at her understanding. Some people have a hard time distinguishing between reality and the persona that walks onstage. “I like you onstage, for what is worth.” Jughead tells her, winking and Betty chuckles, leaning her head on his shoulders as they wait for their luggage. 

“I like you onstage as well… and outside too.” She replies, hand wrapping around his bicep and he swear it must have a direct line to his heart, because it starts beating fast as if prompted. “I guess that’s why people use aliases, too, You know? Keep their lives separate.” she continues, focusing her eyes on him. “Like FP3. Archie’s told me he’s super secretive… I can respect people like that but I also think it’s a shame for his creations to be faceless. There’s something about knowing the creator that can be both something beautiful or something very unpleasant. I just like the choice.” 

Jughead’s smile freezes and dies on his face, so grateful she’s not looking up at him to notice. Betty’s been bringing FP3 more as of late, apparently binge-listening their songs for days on the tour made her love for their lyrics rekindle. 

Another stone forms in Jughead’s stomach, it adds to the storm and the thunder roaring inside until it turns into a typhoon of unseen proportions. Waves crash against his armour, chipping it little bits. 

“Are you okay? You seriously look like you’re going to get sick.” Betty’s looking at him now, head raised from his shoulder, replaced by her hand. Her expression is filled with concern and he wants to kiss it off. 

“Yeah.” he clears his throat, forcing the now permanent knot in his throat down. “I’m just a bit tired from the trip and… New York makes me nervous.” 

“Fret not, I promise to protect you from any New Yorkers.” she says, a playfully solemn expression on her face that makes his heart clench painfully with fondness. 

“Well, I feel so safe now.” he tells her, arm snaking around her waist and bringing her a bit closer.  “It doesn’t hurt that my knight in shining armour is easy on the eyes.” 

Betty giggles, bright eyes meet his.

_ Just a little more time,  _ he begs,  _ just a little more.  _

\------------

There’s a piercing scream that echoes through the silent stage as Jughead waits for Trev to call him for soundcheck. 

Startled, he turns around and finds none other than the mirror image of himself, the other side of the coin he is. His sister, next to Archie as they wear the goofiest set of grins. 

“Jellybean!” her name gets pulled from his lips, along with smile as he starts to walk towards her. 

He doesn’t get to her, instead he stumbles a couple of steps back as Jellybean  _ collides  _ with him. He huffs at the sudden weight but holds her close nonetheless. 

“BIG BRO!” she shouts beside his ear as clings to him by wrapping her arms around his neck, making him wince… but damn it if Jughead doesn’t hug her back just as tightly. 

“Peanut, I thought I was going to see you tomorrow! What are you doing here?” he asks when they finally break apart, softly teasing her hair. It’s shorter than the last time he saw her, it barely reaches her shoulders now but the little purple streak on the side of her face is still there. 

“As if I would miss out on abusing my position as sister of the band’s bassist to get tickets.” she looks at him like he’s an idiot.  _ Ah, fraternity.  _ “Plus, don’t flatter yourself, I’m also here to come see Betty Cooper… she’s awesome.”

“Wow, I can feel the love, peanut.” He fake winces, as if in pain.  _ Have to agree though, good taste must run in our genes.  _  “That’s what I get for raising you?” 

“Oh, don’t be so harsh. I still like your songs.” Jellybean tells him, patting his shoulder twice. “They’re catchy.” 

“You’re such an asshole.” Jughead chuckles, smiling at her widely before she’s hugging her to him again.  It feels like a small part of him that has been missing, a sense of comfort and home has return. “But you’re my asshole sister whom I’ve missed a lot. Come on, let me show you around.” 

“Aw, I’ve missed you too, Jug.” she replies, smiling softly at him before her eyes take a dangerous glint that only siblings can manage. “Now, what is this that I hear about a girlfriend?” 

“ARCHIE!”

* * *

 

That night after the show Jughead dreams of ticking clocks drowning his screams. 

It’s when the water comes and he drowns that he feels relief. 

* * *

 

The Jones siblings have a lot of common ground built by years of being all the other had. 

It hadn’t been a choice, to them, to be bound by blood, but if they had to, they’d choose each other again. In every life. 

Now, their common ground is Central Park. A place that’s become their favorite spot in New York city to hang out together whenever their schedules allowed it. He silently wonders if people-watching runs in their genes, as both of them quietly sit beside each other in comfortable silence. 

Well, at least until his phone rings, breaking the spell Jughead had fallen under. 

He smirks at Jellybean, who had jumped a little in her place at the intruding sound. She rolls her eyes in reply before making a face at him. 

“Hello?” he answers without checking who had called in the first place, too busy trying to reach his sister’s side and poke her. 

“Jughead! Oh, thank God you answered-” A sharp  _ Jughead, stop! _ from Jellybean cuts her short and there’s a pause in which his spine straightens in recognition of Betty’s voice, one that grows unsure with her next words. “Sorry to bother you, Jug. Didn’t know you weren’t alone.” 

“No, no. Hey Betts, I’m just with my sister.” he hurries to say, wincing as Jellybean turns her mischievous eyes on him.  _ Betty Cooper?  _ she mouths, leaning closer to rest her ear on the hand holding his phone after he nods, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation. Jughead pushes her back to her side of the grass with a stern look. 

“ _ Oh,  _ still… It’s not important, Jug.” He can picture her halfway to hanging up the phone and something inside him panics a little. 

“Cooper, come on.” he presses, frowning. “What were you calling me about? You sounded a little winded.” 

“It’s just…” Betty pauses and in his mind eye he can see her clearly biting her bottom lip in nervousness. “Rolling Stone might have just called me to see if I was available to record a small acoustic song.”

“ _ What?! _ That’s amazing, Betts!” Jughead smiles wide but he’s not surprised she’s already being contacted by those type of outlets, from the moment he saw her on that stage, he’d known she’d make it big. 

“In two hours… they had a free spot and I… I need a guitarist.” Betty finishes, her sigh sounding resigned. “But you’re with your sister, I don’t want to intrude… maybe you know of someone who’d be free.” 

“Uh…” he begins smartly and is about to continue talking when his sister punches him on the shoulder, calling to his attention. She’s looking at him like he’s grown a second head. 

“Rolling Stone, Juggy. You have to go!” she whisper-shouts at him, gripping his forearm with an astonishing strength.

“Betty, please hold on for a second.” he tells to the receiver before placing his hand over the phone’s mic. “JB, I came here to be with  _ you.  _ We haven’t seen each other in months.” 

“Well, I mean, I was thinking it was a win-win situation. You get a featured in Rolling Stone with Betty and maybe I could tag along and meet your girlfriend, who happens to be Betty frigging Cooper.”  Jellybean shrugs like it’s unimportant but the way her eyes are wide and almost begging betray her, he opens his mouth to argue but she shuts him up with a gesture of her hand. “I admire your loyalty, but we still have all of tomorrow, dude. And then we’re spending weeks together for spring break.” 

Jughead inspects his sister’s expression, looking for the truth in the crinkle of her eyes and the way she seems to be biting the inner skin of her lips. He narrows her eyes at her for a few seconds more, weighing his options. 

In the hollowness that is his chest, he thinks that this is not fair, the two people on Earth he has no power to say no to unawarely ganging up against his sanity. 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” He quickly tells his sister who rolls her eyes so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if they fell off before he’s reaching for the phone again. “Hello, Betty? Yeah… do you think my sister could tag along?” 

* * *

 

Jughead shakes his head as Jellybean practically bounces on her feet next to him as they wait for Betty to show up at the place where they’re doing the videos. When he had accepted -which seems like years ago instead of merely two hours back- he had not thought of the fact that his sister would be meeting his potential… Betty. 

Sure, Jellybean had almost explicitly said it but as Jughead has come to learn lately... he’s great at denial. Amazing at it. Should-consider-giving-a-course amazing. The hand holding the cigarette shakes slightly on its way to his mouth as he tries to lie to himself into a state of calmness he knows is impossible to achieve.  _ As if my nerves needed any more frying, _ he thinks to himself. 

“Hey!” Betty is walking quickly in their direction with a small smile on her face. As soon as she reaches him, however, she loops her arms around his neck -and boy, does Jughead try so very hard not to pull her thighter to him or think too much about how cute it is that she has to stand on her tiptoes to reach him - “Thank you so much, Jughead. You’re officially my favorite superhero.” 

Jughead glares at his sister a silent  _ shut up _ when Jellybean gives him a thumbs up from behind Betty’s shoulder. “Hey Betts, it was no problem.” 

“You gave up time with your sister to help me, it’s a big deal. And speaking of sister…” Betty turns around with a hundred watts smile trained on Jellybean. “Wow, no DNA is needed for anyone to know you two are siblings.” 

“I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment.” Jellybean musses, pursing her lips as she tries to not to smile. Jughead rolls her eyes  behind Betty, crushing his cigarette to the floor, willing his jitters to extinguish alongside it. 

“Definitely a compliment. You even got the good looks too.” Betty turns to wink at him playfully and he can’t help but chuckle at her antics. 

“Everybody knows I’m the prettiest sibling, though. You don’t have to lie.” JB replies with mirth. 

“I admit nothing.” Betty tells her solemnly.

“Wow, the loyalty.” Jughead buts in, looking at both of them as they giggle together. He smiles at the view, his heart pounding a little against his sternum as his brain quickly captures every detail so he won’t forget this moment. “I suppose I should introduce you, since you’re already complotting against me. Betty Cooper, this is Jellybean Jones. JB, this is Betty.” 

“I know who she is, you big dork.” Jellybean replies, extending a hand that Betty shakes enthusiastically. “I’m sort of a big fan.” 

“Well, thank you very much Jellybean.” Betty beams at his sister before biting her lower lip. “I’m sorry to take away time with Juggie.” 

“Oh, no worries at all.” Jellybean dismisses her instantly. “I can only handle small Jughead dosis per day. I’ve nearly reached my quota-”

“Okay, how about we diminish the level of sass and go inside instead?” Jughead says, giving his sister his best shit eating grin before he’s herding both of the girls inside as they chuckle. “Humour based off me, how exciting.” 

It doesn’t really matter though, not when Betty’s hand brushes his for a second, tangling their index fingers in a soothing gesture before she’s focusing again on his sister.  

* * *

 

As soon as he sees the song they’re supposed to do, Jughead’s stomach flips painfully inside of him. 

Honestly, it’s a wonder his stomach is even still functional after all the emotional assault it has suffered lately. 

He focuses on the sheet of paper in front of him. Betty had sent him a nameless sheet of music that he’d read a few times before getting here, learning the melody. The lyrics, though, had been a mystery. He hadn’t mind at the moment, now, as he stares at the actual sheet of paper that holds both the lyrics and the melody… Jesus, how hadn’t he realised what song it was? 

“You about ready?” Betty says, touching his shoulder. Jughead bites his bottom lip, chewing a little on it before silently nodding, eyes still stuck on the page. He lets his hold on the guitar ground him into a calmer state.. “I know the song is… Well, I like it and I already had rehearsals with Kevin but if you’re now comfortable with it we can-”

“Betts.” He cuts her, shifting to look into her eyes. There’s a worry there that makes him sigh. “It’s okay, we can do this song.” 

“Only if you’re sure.” she continues, following him as he stands up from the chair, adjusting the guitar on him. 

“I’m sure.” He tells her, silently begging he’s right. 

An assistant quickly guides them to a fairly modest set with just one microphone and a few lights placed to give the best look to the video. It’s not much but he doesn’t mind, since the focus should be on the song, especially since it’s an acoustic version. 

He moves to his spot next to Betty like a man walking to the edge of a cliff, stiff and focusing merely on what he’s supposed to be playing when they start filming. Betty is doing a few vocal warm up exercises beside him, probably more to keep the nerves at bay more than to actually  _ warm up.  _ If Jughead wasn’t so focused on not freaking out himself he’d be supporting her and talking Betty out of her nervous funk but if he opens his mouth he doesn’t know what will come out. 

The director of this little video checks the last of things and turns to them with a wicked grin on his face. “Okay… Betty, we’ll start rolling the video and you will introduce yourself before playing the song. Make sure to mention the name of the song too, please.” he tells her, getting behind the camera and in front of a monitor. “Any questions?” 

“No, I- I think I got it. I’m just a little nervous.” She admits, smiling at them. 

“Oh, honey, you’ll do wonderfully.” He reassures her a bit absently, obviously it’s something that he’s said to every single performant that’s been in this place. “Okay… we’re on, whenever you’d like, Betty.” 

Betty takes a deep calming breathe next to him, she looks okay as far as appearances go but he can see the way her right hand curls into a fist and flexes in measured movements. Her only tell that she might be nervous at all. 

“Hey.” he whispers to her, trying to comfort her and focusing on _ her  _ instead of anything he might be feeling. “Remember, you’re mesmerizing.” 

Betty’s smile is worth everything.  _ Everything _ . 

It takes only a couple of seconds more before she faces the camera and speaks.  _ Ah,  _ he sees the glimmer in her eyes,  _ there’s OnStage Betty.  _

“Hello! My name is Betty Cooper and this is  _ When the right one comes along _ for Rolling Stone.” 

He lets the first chords of the song rang out softly, tilting his body softly to face her a little. Jughead counts the tempo with his foot gently and then… she’s singing. 

 

_ There's no music, no confetti _

_ Crowds don't cheer, and bells don't ring _

_ But you'll know it, I can guarantee _

_ When the right one comes along _

 

She sings with a small voice, almost as if she’s only singing to herself, closed eyes. It’s so gentle and so comforting. Jughead lets himself be transported by the softness of her voice, he can almost feel it as real as a caress. 

_ What they're thinkin', what you're feelin, _

_ You no longer have to guess _

_ All those questions are finally put to rest _

_ When the right one comes along _

 

Slowly, she opens her eyes, as if waking up from a dream and they land on him. Suddenly, Jughead’s completely turning to face her. There’s a spell each time she sings but there’s also a choice. And he’d choose to get lost in her each and every time. 

 

_ Every single broken heart will lead you to the truth _

_ You think you know what you're looking for _

_ Til what you're looking for finds you _

 

Betty smiles at him softly, all wrapped in a song and it’s intoxicating. The way they sway to the tune, completely in sync without having rehearsed this song together  _ once. _ He feels the story and its truth down to his very bones, the way it becomes slowly a part of him and it wraps him in a certainty that brings nothing but peace for him. There’s nothing else but her, nothing but them together as they play. 

 

_ In a cold world, it's a warm place _

_ Where you know that you're supposed to be _

_ A million moments full of sweet relief _

_ When the right one comes along _

The song is wrapping up and Jughead wants to weep. He knows, as soon as the last chord strikes, reality will set back in painful as ever. She’s the air he’s breathing and the blood in his veins, she’s the way his fingers dance over the strings and the little breaths she takes before singing. Betty is everywhere he sees and he thinks that if, maybe, he’d get to live the rest of his days like this, he’d die a happy man. 

 

_ All that changes is only everything _

_ When the right one comes along… _

 

She’s everything.

_ That I don’t deserve.  _ The thought filters for a second before he’s extinguishing it selfishlessly, ignoring everything but the quick beating of his heart and the way Betty’s looking at him.

“CUT!” the director shouts, making them bounce apart as if electrified. “You guys, that was amazing!” he goes on, praising Betty’s sweet voice and Jughead can’t help but smile as their eyes cross over the man’s shoulder. 

Jughead sighs, trying desperately to push air into his crushed lungs. As his eyes roam the room and his sanity leaves his mind, he finds his sister’s expression to be a mix of wonder and confusion. The search for air becomes a complete and utter failure because he knows right there that with just a look Jellybean has taken a deep hard look into his soul. Her expression turns sour for a second before a mask falls over it. 

He feels his own mouth open but no words come out as the weight that has been on his shoulders for a while now descends upon him again. Jughead wants to fall to the floor under the heaviness of it but somehow he stands upright, he thinks it might be out of habit rather than his own will. 

Jughead feels cold, all the remaining warmth from their performance gone. He looks away before his sister can and brings his attention back to Betty, who’s still chatting animatedly with the director. She outshines everything in this room quite easily in a way that makes Jughead wonder what did he ever did in his life, even before meeting her to deserve someone like that. 

Jughead’s darkness feels too latent, too hungry for more to ever drop his grip on the tight leash that holds it in place. Ever since meeting her he’s been letting go of so many things, like peeling back layers that spoke of years of conformity, only to discover… more. There’s feelings and memories there that he’d rather would’ve gone undiscovered. 

It seems like his impenetrable comfort zone was just not Betty-proofed in any way. In his defense, he never knew love could make you chang-

_ what _

_ what _

_ LOVE? _

His barely there anxiety attack has escalated to a paralyzing state of shock as he merely  _ stops.  _ He’s… in love with Betty?  _ No, but I’m getting there,  _ he thinks along with a large gulp. And what has he done with this love but lie to her? Is this all he has to offer her? Lies and deception? 

A broken mind filled with insecurities, a coward so used to hiding that can no longer tell if this is a choice or simply habit, a way to live, another one of his masks so carefully woven with his own skin he doesn’t know who he is anymore. Hell, he truly doesn’t know. 

Except...It’s not all about him. For the first time, there’s someone in his life that makes him want to be more, that makes Jughead want to be the best version of himself. All his life has been about proving people wrong, proving his parents wrong. He has been using this as his fuel and as his strategy to maintain a goal that’s now, somehow, void in his life. 

Here’s this girl, smiling at him with a softness that threatens to tear him to pieces and all he’s ever done is lie to her to save his skin. 

That’s what it’s been boiling down to, hasn’t it? Jughead being too afraid to jeopardize his fake sense of control over his life over what he  _ thought  _ was only a girl. His knee-jerk reaction has been overanalyzing about being worthy or not when all that really should matter is that there’s a lie that he can no longer stand to bear. 

He lets realization sink in, everything around becoming muted. There’s only one path that he needs to follow, one that regardless of its results he  _ will  _ follow, if only because _ she  _ deserves it. 

Because - _ if he makes it about himself- _ he will do everything in his power to become the man he thinks Betty deserves to have in her life. 

* * *

 

He arrives to Jellybean’s apartment in a daze. 

Jughead had gone through so many emotions that afternoon that now he just felt drained, hair growing a migraine with each step. He closes the door, walking to leave his guitar in its case next to the bookcase in the living room. 

He stays there, all of his focus on breathing because he feels like he might otherwise start freaking out all over again. 

“Jug”  _ Ah, there it is. _ His sister’s voice pierces through his headache. Jughead closes his eyes before turning around. 

“Yes?” he asks, merely to prompt her, because he knows what’s coming. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, hands moving along her shoulders in a shrug. She looks as defeated as he is. All the air leaves his lungs. 

“Just so we’re clear, we’re talking about Betty and not about me about to go to sleep, right?” Jughead’s attempt at humour meets a quick death with Jellybean’s glare. “Right, I thought so…”

He moves to the sofa, all fight draining from him. He lets himself fall onto it, quickly followed by his sister, who sits sideways to look at him head on. He can’t, though, he stares forward, to the black screen of the tv. 

“When I first met her, I didn’t anticipate all that would happen, okay?” He starts babbling. “I never thought we’d grow close. It’s just a habit at this point, lying to people about my job and my creative input in the band.” 

“So you really have been lying to her all this time?” JB asks, pursing her lips. “Jug, you can’t do that. If anything, she’s your friend. You don’t lie like that to friends.” 

“I know, okay?” He tells her, racking his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I never thought we’d become friends, much less that I’d fucking fall for her. I’ve been feeding her lies from the first moment we’ve met, and you know what? It fucking terrifies me, the idea that I might lose her. I’ve been feeding her white lies like dad used to tell mom. God, I’m such an asshole.” there’s a sob that escapes his throat in desperation that he can’t contain.

“Jughead, our father was unapologetic about every single choice he made in his life. He was arrogant, he was a manipulator and you are  _ nothing  _ like him.” Jughead feels a tear fall down his cheek either way as his sister’s words calm him a little bit. “Juggie… even if you don’t tell her the truth, ever,  _ that  _ is still losing her. If you feel for her as you say you do, you will do the right thing, respect her and tell her the truth.” 

“I know.” he says, sniffing. Jellybean’s hand comes to his shoulder, squeezing in silent comfort. There’s a moment of silence before Jellybean speaks.

“I thought it would take more convincing.” she says, making Jug chuckle a bit wetly. 

“I’ve been torturing myself over weeks, this is merely the straw that broke the camel’s back.”  Jughead shakes his head, hand coming to rub his aching chest. 

“You  _ are  _ a little pigheaded.” she mocks and Jughead flicks her arm with his fingers. 

“Don’t mock my pain.” he says gently, no real heat behind it. 

“So…” Jellybean looks at him, eyes flying all over his face with a small smile. “You’re falling for her.” 

“Yeah, I was surprised too. It’s a recent revelation.” he explains, the word feeling like the understatement of the year. Somedays it feels like there’s been a Betty-shaped hole inside of him since he was born. 

“And you’re going to tell her the truth soon, right?” There’s a stern, mom-like, tone underlying her words that make his lips twitch up. 

“I… I am.” he tells her, finally looking up at his sister. “When the tour ends.”

“WHAT? No, Jughead, you-” He cuts his sister off with a hand and she huffs but nods at him to explain.

“Betty’s popularity and career is rising.” Jughead explains, sighing. “If for some reason, me telling her would put in risk her concentration or anything, I would never forgive myself for damaging her career. It’s not about me, not anymore.” Jellybean leans back against the sofa again at those words. “I will tell her the second the tour is over, but I need to make sure she gets every single opportunity out of this tour that she can.” 

“I’m going to say this once, okay?” Jellybean leans forward, pointing her index finger at him until it nearly touches the tip of his nose. “If you don’t tell her by the time the tour has ended, I will personally hunt you down and break every single one of your guitar’s strings then draw doodles in every single one of your musician and movies posters. Are we clear?” 

“You…” Jughead blinks, not sure how to react. “When did you get scary?” 

“College life is like a jungle made of concrete and student loans, Jug.” she shrugs, leaving his personal space and not looking like he just gave Jughead new nightmare material. “You learn a few things.” 

“I promise, you know? I will tell her.” Jughead tells her, smiling softly. 

“Good, now since you’re so agreeable today, go and make me a hot cocoa.” JB asks.

She gets her hot cocoa right after she gets a throw pillow to her face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: "When the right one comes along" by Striking Matches.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Any mistakes are mine.

Once he had had his eureka moment Jughead had two mindsets.

One where he’d be quiet as he tried not to drown in his nerves, he’d fidget constantly and close on himself because the pressure was just too much. He had continue like this until Archie had nearly bursted in a  _ NEED!TO!PROTECT!  _ act and he had taking his brooding hours down a notch. 

The other mindset seemed a lot like accepting his fate. The heavy weight on his shoulders had eased up a little as he counted down the days until tour was over, appreciating every single contact he had with Betty. 

He had enjoyed a couple of shows more with her before Kevin had came back, each performance creating more rockus between the fans and inside his chest. But he didn’t care, Jughead would take each and every single one of their interactions to his grave, right alongside a little paper that read  _ First person to kickstart my heart in forever. _

Right now, he looks at her from the sides as she belts out her parts, sometimes dancing and moving her hips in the most tantalizing of ways. The little minx had even come as far as wink at him in an occasion and Jughead had felt close to bursting into flames right there. 

Right now, as he’s so close to an inevitable crash with no predictable outcome, he lets his eyes commit her to memory. Each shade of gold that paints her hair, each green hue of her eyes, how after a show she’ll be especially cuddly and would often end up with his arms around her, the way the skirts he wears to stage bounce along with her, her coy smirks and playful words. 

Jughead avoids at all costs thinking about all that he might lose throughout the last days of tour and prefers to just hug her as much as he can, sneak as many cheek and forehead kisses as he manages to ignore his inner ticking clock.. 

“So you’re going to tell her?” Archie appears suddenly next to him, looking up to the stage. Jughead sighs, a twinge of nervousness flaring up inside his belly. 

“Tonight, yes.” he answers, voice breathy but loud enough for Archie to hear him over the ongoing performance. “After the show.” 

“You nervous?” Archie asks, bouncing on his toes to the beat of the song absently. 

“Dude, do you know who you’re talking to?” Jughead wonders out loud, turning his head to look at his friend with a baffled expression. Archie chuckles next to him, turning to face Jughead with an amused yet solemn expression.

“I was just messing with you. I…” Archie purses his lips for a second, placing his hand on Jughead’s shoulder with a finality and seriousness that makes Jughead nervous. “I’m just proud of you, Jughead. You’re opening yourself up to things, regardless of the result. You’re not just… surviving.” 

Archie’s insight on something that’s been clouded by denial for Jughead makes him look down in shame. 

“I’m glad you’re doing the right thing and I  _ know  _ everything will be alright because I’ve never seen two weirdos more fitted for each other than you two.” Archie pats him twice before he’s using that hand to push Jughead into a crushing hug. He huffs for a second before he’s hugging back just as strongly. 

“I hope, man. I hope.” 

Jughead does hope, in the smallest parts of his mind there’s a spark filled with all the good thoughts he could try to find inside of himself. He leaves it untouched and untainted, knowing he won’t be able to handle the heartbreak if he dared to hold it in his hands. 

Hope is a fickle thing that grows as the waves at night, once the silence has set in and there’s no one to see. It’s in every single of the dreams he’s had this past week and a half, and in every step he took today, towards possible doom. 

Thunderous applause brings him out of his reverie. Betty’s end of the show chips away at his inner countdown viciously. Jughead’s hands shake lightly for a second before he hides them in the pockets of his jeans. Each single grain of sand hits the floor and it feels like they’re weighing him down. 

Betty gets off the stage with the biggest of smiles, one that gets soft and warm when she spots him looking at her. She walks towards him leisurely and he can’t help but want, once more, for time to freeze. 

“Hey there stranger.” she stops within touching distance, mirth in her eyes. “I didn’t know they let anyone in to see the show.” 

“I’ve got an in with the bassist of the other band.” he replies, looking as smug as he can manage. 

“Oh, so you’re in good company then.” Betty looks positively wicked as she takes another step closer to him, their toes touching. “Would you be so kind as to tell him that was my last show? He happens to owe me something.” 

Jughead’s insides do a weird thing and he’s hit with a feeling of fondness that floods his chest. 

“Oh, yeah? What’s this thing he owes you?” he lets his arms wrap around her middle, finally molding their bodies together. It’s with a bit of desperation that he hold her, as if he were staring at the edge of an abyss. 

“I don’t know. A date, a kiss or two.” Jughead shakes his head, both in amusement and so he won’t start crying. He doesn’t know what to do with all the stuff he’s feeling, is it too much to be missing her when she’s right here in his arms? 

“I shall pass the message along.” He pulls her even closer, moving his head slighting to the side and inhaling her in. Jughead closes his eyes and allows himself to just feel her. This sensation is what’s in jeopardy and for a second he feels his heart grow cold in alarm, but he pushes it down just as he’d been doing with most stuff in his life. 

“Jug…” Betty leans back from their embrace, confused and concerned frown on her face. 

“Yeah, baby?” his voice doesn’t break but it does take him a couple of seconds to realise what he’s said, he stills a little opening his mouth to back out. 

“Are you okay?” she asks instead, a little private smile paints her lips and that right there is one of his biggest regrets. Knowing that he might never know what it’s like to kiss her makes him feel like dying a little. 

“Yeah.” He lies, sighing before placing another kiss on her forehead and he does not think about the possibility of it being the last. “I’m just a little emotional about tour ending.”

“I’m going to miss it too…” Betty sympathises before stepping out of his embrace. “But I’m also pretty excited for what comes after.” they share a secret smile that makes his heart jump again. “I’m going to change, you have your own show to get to and… I’ll see you later, hopefully?”

“Yeah…” he starts, clearing his throat because  _ God,  _ if only she knew. “I’ll see you later.” 

He watches her go with a reluctance that feels older than him, something that will become a fixture inside his brain for the rest of his days. He wonders briefly, if this was a movie, what kind of depressing music would be on the background. Is this the moment where you know the main character has fucked up or the hour before the dawn? 

Jughead doesn’t know but he still, even if foolishly so, hopes. 

* * *

 

The show goes on without a single glitch and that makes Jughead grateful because it feels as if he was there for only half of the time. 

He would feel bad about himself and not thoroughly enjoying his last show if he wasn’t a continuously growing ball of nerves. Jughead accepts the hugs and pats on the shoulder from the crew, giving them back just as warmly as he makes his way out of the small gathering of people before taking out his phone from his pocket. 

_ Hey, where are you at?  _

He text Betty quickly, a little confused to not see her waiting for him here. A part of him tries to lure him into the dark void, convince him it’s a sign but he ignores it. 

_ I’m at the hotel! We came earlier to have a few celebratory drinks. You done with your show?  _

Jughead groans, trying to figure out a way around this. His idea had been just… talking to her somewhere private around the venue and rip off the bandaid as quickly as he could. Going to her room is out of the question because it would just feel like too much, as if he hasn’t betrayed her trust enough. What about….

_ Meet me on the rooftop in 20?  _

Jughead bites his lower lips to fend off the nerves, pocketing his phone and making his way to grab his stuff and change into his non-stage clothes. He hesitates as he takes off his beanie, feeling unprotected but knowing no amount of clothes would make him feel okay about this situation, so he puts it on his backpack anyway. His phone buzzes and he takes it out.

_ Sure! Can’t wait :)  _

“Fuck my entire existence” Jughead mutters to himself, with a heart that’s jumping around his ribcage like a maniac. “Whatever the result, Jug. Whatever the result” he reminds himself. 

The uber takes him to the hotel, having decided to escape earlier than he usually would to meet Betty. Archie and the rest of the band were staying a little longer before heading back with the official bus tour. The ride is silent as Jughead wrings his hands over and over, trying to get the edge of his anxiety off to no avail.

He leaves his stuff in his room quickly before heading to the rooftop, not even fully opening the door before he’s lit the cigarette on his lips, taking a long drag. The air is cold and the smoke is hypnotizing as Jughead goes over to the edge of the rooftop and drapes his arms over the ledge. It’s a beautiful night and the view from where he stands is almost enough to distract him,  _ almost.  _

Jughead’s brain is numb by now, his nerves becoming a constant pulse but he feels the ticking clock coming to an end.  _ At least you’ll know,  _ he tells himself.  _ For better or for worse, you won’t be lying to her anymore.  _

The sound of the access door opening makes him turn around. The time has come, the world stumbles to a stop and he struggles to breathe. Betty is wearing a light maroon t-shirt with a dark jean along with what he thinks are her favorite sneakers. Her hair is a flowing halo around her as she makes her way to him. Jughead extinguishes his cigarette quickly, moving to face her. 

“Hey.” her voice is breathy when she finally reaches him. “You’re early.” 

“I wanted to see you.” he says, eyes roaming over her figure, her arms around herself. “You’re cold.” he notices. 

“Oh, it’s okay, I-” 

Jughead taking off his jacket silences her. He can feel her eyes following him as he gets closer and drapes his leather jacket over her tiny shoulders. Betty’s small structure in comparison to him had always made her seem adorable, knowing all her real strength resided inside of her rather than in her appearance. She looks positively tiny with his jacket drowning her, she grabs the lapels of it with her hands with a small smile. 

“Thank you, Jug.” she whispers as he leans back and takes a deep breath, bracing himself. “You wanted to see me?” her smile makes Jughead bite the inside of his cheek until the hurt resembles the one inside of his chest, he tastes blood. 

“Betty… we need to talk.” his words have an immediate impact on her expression. It falters and her eyes narrow the tiniest bit. 

“... Okay.” She says slowly, moving to lean her hip on the ledge, still facing him. “What do you want to talk about?” 

“I-” he starts, pulling courage from anywhere he can find it. It doesn’t seem like enough. “I haven’t been honest with you, Betty.” 

Her expression is stoic but he can see a spark inside her eyes, he gulps. He waits a few seconds for her to say anything but she doesn’t, letting him continue on his own. As if he has any idea how to do this! He has never really had to  _ tell  _ people about this, there had never been any chance. 

“Fuck,  _ fuck, _ Uhm-” Jughead mutters to himself, trying to find the words and coming up empty. 

“Jug, you can tell me a-”

“My full name is Forsythe Pendleton the third.” He blurts out the first thing he can think of and he’d laugh at Betty’s mix of amused and confused expression if he weren’t so high strung. 

“I don’t understand. I know your real name isn’t Jughead, that’s not  _ lying. _ ” she argues, shrugging and Jughead truly doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry. 

“My full name is Forsythe Pendleton the Third.” He repeats, pushing the words through his closed throat. “I don’t use it much because I loathe that name but when I do… I write it down by the first letter of each name.” 

He just can’t bring himself to say it. He takes a deep breath, looking at Betty’s ever so confused face, silently begging her to  _ get it. _

“So, like F, P-” her words stop and die on her tongue, alongside Jughead. He sees the recognition in her eyes now as they widen and fuck if it doesn’t kill him the small step backwards she takes. Jughead looks down for a second, head bowed in a shame that clings to his bones. 

“FP3.” He finishes for her. He’s never hated his namesake more than he does now. Jughead feels a shiver down his spine but he doesn’t react to it, he just… tries to breathe. 

“I don’t understand.” Betty bites her bottom lip in clear distress. The need to cross the distance between them and comfort her rips him at the seams. 

“I was 18.” his voice breaks a little when he speaks so he clears his throat. “I was 18 when we started getting noticed and I didn’t like the attention. I never have. So after a few fights with Archie and a lot of paperwork, we created the moniker FP3, saying it was a ghost writer that didn’t enjoy the fame which… it’s not that much of a lie.”

Jughead chuckles without humour, looking somewhere above Betty’s shoulder.  He feels so stupid now, it  _ sounds  _ so stupid to say it out loud. 

“So we continued growing, using FP3 as a shadow as I got to write my heart out while enjoying the lack of pressure that comes with being famous. It was having the best of both worlds, it was comfortable, it was _ okay _ . ” He explains, hand combing through his hair to calm his still rising anxiety. “Then… then you came in.” 

His eyes flee towards her as she lets the tiniest of gasps. Her eyes a bit glassy but he makes keep talking, the memories of the first time he saw her making him smile a little. She’s still just as beautiful. 

“You came in with your beautiful voice and even more fantastic personality and  Betty…” Jughead shakes his head in disbelief. “You made me want  _ more _ . The first time we talked, you spoke of FP3 in a way that made me want to be seen. I wanted to be that person you spoke so highly off instead of a reclusive artist.” 

His breathing is erratic now and he stops to try not to gather his wits. Jughead tries to will the desperation away but it comes bubbling up again and  _ again.  _

“I didn’t say anything at first because I thought everything was okay, that it was a glitch in my stupid brain and that it’d go away. But it didn’t, Betty.” he says, “all that happened was I fell so deep into a rabbit hole of lies, I no longer could see a way out. You were so open with me, so beautiful and all I ever did was feed both of us lies. I hate myself for doing this, I-” 

“Jughead.” Betty interrupts him just as he was about to word vomit. “Why- Why did you  _ lie?  _ I thought we-”

“Everything I said, Betty,  _ everything _ I feel about you is real.” Jughead’s voice regains his strength because he cannot let her, even for one second, believe that what they have is fake. Their relationship is about one of the realest things he’s ever felt in his whole life. “I lied because I’m a coward, because I didn’t know how to deal with my own feelings and it got to a point when the more time I spent stalling, the harder it became to open my mouth. All these doubts started creeping in, how could I ever compete to the image you had of FP3?” 

“Well, Jughead, I never fell for FP3, but I sure as hell did fall for  _ you _ .” Betty’s angry words are a sharp sword that cut through everything. Space. Time. His chest. He freezes all over, blinking in confusion as Betty mutters a sharp  _ shit _ into the air. 

“Baby-”

“Don’t-” she says, sniffing and scratching her temple nervously. Betty has her eyes closed, as if trying to erase the words merely with her mind. “Please, don’t call me that.” 

Jughead gapes, still not over the whiplash of emotions. Suddenly the risk is that much bigger than it was. His chest feels like caving on itself. How is it possible to feel so elated and tortured at the same time? He whispers a soft  _ sorry _ , he hadn’t even realised he had opened his mouth to talk, much less let that endearment out. 

“Jughead, you let me make a fool of myself countless times.” she tells him, voice stronger now. Her eyes are ablaze as she looks back up. “I talked about FP3 in so many opportunities, I asked you about your future and you never once- You never once stopped me.” 

“I-” 

“No, let me finish.” she stops him, looking at him with something akin to disappointment and he just  _ can’t. _ “I understand why you spent your life hiding behind that nickname, funnily enough we had a conversation about aliases,” Betty’s shallow chuckle doesn’t hold a drop of humour. “That’s okay. But you lied  _ so many times _ , you were looking straight at me and lying to my face. I don’t know how I feel about that. Actually I do. I’m hurt, you hurt me, Jughead.” 

Jughead closes his eyes as he breathes a shuddering breath. Betty just uttered the words he had most feared. Deep inside he knew, he had seen this coming but now as it happens he can’t help but feel like a shock goes through him. He deserves everything she will say to him, every single one of her punishments. 

“I’m so sorry.” he whispers shaking his head. He doesn’t meet her eyes, he can’t. It feels as if the cold has reached his core, starting by numbing his fingers all the way up to his heart. 

“I know.” Her words are so soft he wants to whimper like a wounded dog. “Jughead, look at me.” 

He does, ever so slowly and reluctantly. Betty has taken a step closer to him and there’s a flicker of hope through all this anguish. 

“I know you’re sorry, Jughead. I also know that you don’t need anyone telling you you fucked up because I’m pretty sure you’re your toughest critic but-” Betty falters, biting her lip and sniffing again. “But you did fuck up, you did hurt me and… I’m not sure I am comfortable here anymore, with you.” 

There’s a sob that gets caught in his throat. The ice keeps getting closer to the center of him and his head throbs painfully, trying to deal with the excruciating pain he feels. Jughead logically knows his heart is merely an organ that pumps blood, but right now as he stares into Betty’s wet eyes, he can heart it shatter into a million pieces. 

“I’m so sorry, Betty.” Jughead’s voice is wet but he remains frozen in place. Feeling like a broken record because what else can he say but that he’s sorry? It doesn’t feel like he can do anything. 

“I know, Jug. I know.” Betty’s weak smile makes everything worse because it’s quickly followed by a silent tear that she wipes away quickly. “I need time to think about… everything. I don’t know how to feel right now.”

“Whatever you need, Betty.” he means it.  _ Everything, anything she needs.  _ “I’m sorry.” 

The blonde looks at him, he thinks that maybe she’s memorizing him as he did with her but why would she? Suddenly, her hand comes to his cheek and he’s helpless to do anything but lean onto her warmth, moving his face a little to the side so he can mutter a soft  _ I’m so sorry _ against her skin. Betty purses her lips before leaning forward and his breath catches. She lets her own lips brush against the right corner of his own, it’s not really a kiss but it feels earth shattering all the same. She lingers there for a second longer before leaning back and completely out of his space. Jughead’s body means to follow but he stops himself, keeping his feet deeply rooted to the floor. 

“Goodbye Jughead.” 

They look at each other for a second more before she turns around and walks briskly towards the access door. There’s a part of him that leaves alongside her, it feels vital but somehow, he’s still breathing here… alone. Jughead shudders, the cold in the air hitting him again and he realises Betty had left his jacket on the ledge somehow. He grabs it, robotically putting it in and he gets a whiff of her perfume. 

He didn’t think there was anything more inside of him to break, but the last piece of his heart shatters as painful as every single one of the others. Jughead walks numbly, feet heavy with silent agony and lack of purpose. The door closes behind him and he’s fine with it, if he never sees that goddamned roof again in his life, it’d still be too soon. 

He tries to think,  _ Okay, so what now?  _ but all his brain can manage is a lot of white noise and not one coherent thought as he wanders the hotel halls aimlessly. Jughead doesn’t feel anything, he realises. It’s all just…  _ cold. _ He should’ve seen it coming, he really should have.  He-

He knocks on a door. It feels like he’s watching himself, watching his body move along without any prompting. It should be terrifying, it would be, if only he could feel anything. 

Archie opens the door, smiling as he sees him.

“Hey Bud- Jug?” Archie’s face falls, leaving his place at the door to place a soft hand on Jughead’s shoulder. Actually, it’s hovering, as if he’s not really sure he should touch him. “Jug.”

He doesn’t talk. Doesn’t have the energy, doesn’t want to or simply can’t. He doesn’t remember so he just shakes his head minutely. Even if he could speak, he doesn’t know how he’d begin to explain how he feels. 

“Jug, look at me.” He follows directions. How did he get here in the first place again? He doesn’t know, doesn’t care. God, he’s so tired. Archie’s eyes are a bit frantic. “Is this… Is this about Betty? 

And just like that, the floodgates open and he’s pulled back into his own body merely by the strength of the sob that gets wretched from his chest. It’s painful and is apparently scary, if he goes by Archie’s face. 

“Hey, hey, come inside.” his friends tells him, gently guiding him into the room. 

The door closes and Jughead wipes a tear that has fallen from his eyes, the sobs stop as abruptly as they had come and he feels numb again. No, not numb. His chest is moving quickly in time with his ragged breaths and  _ oh,  _ he’s having a panic attack. 

“She left.” it’s his voice that speaks, it sounds weird to his own ears and he’s not really thinking about what he’s saying. “She said I hurt her and that she needs time.” 

“That’s good, she just needs time.” Archie tries to soothe him but it falls flat to Jughead’s ears. 

“She won’t come back, Archie. I know” Jughead’s desperate tone makes Archie wince but he only vaguely notices it. 

_ Fuck, I haven’t had a panic attack this bad since we left my Dad,  _ the still rational part of his brain thinks.  

There’s a chanting he hears, it sounds a lot like  _ She’s not coming back _ , again and again and again. He thinks it’s coming from him and he’d maybe be able to stop if he could simply focus. But there are spots of black in his vision, there’s a voice calling his name and there’s a pressure on his chest that feels like it might never go away. 

It’s hours later when an emotion arises, he’s staring at the empty side of the bed as if it will transform into a solution. Jughead scoffs.

Turns out, hopelessness is a fickle bitch too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're finally here. The cat is out of the bag and so is the angst, people! I'm sorry :(
> 
> I promise this is still HEA because I'm literally unable to write anything sad for a long time. I can't believe we're at this part of the fic already, I know the updates have been... sporadic and without a fixed schedule but life has been weird and making me more tired than usual. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy the reveal as much as I enjoyed writing it :)   
> -C


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Any mistakes are mine.

Jughead begs the cigarette in his hand to give him answers but it remains painfully quiet, just as the floor, the walls, the sofa… but not his mind. 

Never his mind. 

He scratches his scruffy cheek, enjoying the little feeling as he stares down to the city from his balcony. Midnight again, it’s so quiet, so deadly quiet. He knows going to bed is pointless, insomnia has made a home inside himself and doesn’t plan to leave anytime soon. The circles under his eyes are full moons filled with the echoes of his regrets that stare back at him each time he, by mistake, looks at the mirror. 

The cigarette reaches its demise and he lets it fall on the floor of his balcony, not bothering to fully put it out. There’s an unofficial cemetery for the remainings of his vice there, Jughead simply hasn’t had the energy to clean anything lately. 

The night is painted black and blue, matching his insides in a way that makes him think that maybe insomnia is right, maybe the night  _ is _ his ally. There, there’s no one to see him grieve, there, there’s no one to see his shame.

Because those are strong emotions that come up from time to time whenever he’s not feeling numb. His phone died a few days ago, alongside with his will to do anything but write his heart out. That’s if he’s in a writing mood, lately he hasn’t really been able to tell. Jughead will go from staring at the wall to writing a paragraph or some lyrics in the nearest surface he can find. 

There, on a wall on the way to his bedroom, a quiet reminder says “ _ Moods that take me and erase me, And I'm painted black _ ”. There are marks made with more than just ink in him, they’re bone deep and they ache every single day. Jughead places a hand over his sternum, where the deepest cut runs like a river inside of him. 

He’s gone through a lot of metaphors but not a single one could ever describe the utter clusterfuck that is his mind. The simplest way he could  _ try  _ to put into words is merely by saying that it feels like someone has grabbed a hold of a chunk of his heart and torn it apart. Or a leg, an arm, Jughead is not generally picky. He would just like to not feel like he’s drowning all the time. 

Jughead used to think that time could heal each wound, fill every single nook and cranny inside of his heart or at the very least, pull them together with a little superglue. The more time passes, however, the ache settles in more. There’s this constant drumming in his ears that by now is a distant sore that changes the way he moves and thinks. Like a twisted ankle, this emotional wound has left him feeling untethered and bound to fall anytime soon. That’s the worst part, knowing that this isn’t rock bottom even if it is pretty damn close to it. Jughead feels like each day he peels a new layer of his sadness and ends up swimming deeper and further into the bluest of oceans that he likes to romanticize his depression into. 

In all honesty, he’s the living example God has a wicked sense of humour. 

Jughead grabs his semi-abandoned glass of whiskey and heads to his studio with lazy steps. The alcohol burns his throat but it matches the mood so he’s not overthinking it. He no longer really cares about his supposedly golden moral code, it’s what brought him to this situation to the first place so maybe it can go fuck itself. 

The studio is a mess of abandoned glasses and paper sheets scattered around the floor and sofa. Jughead is pretty sure he has more than 5 unfinished songs and a couple more that could count as a demo, even if every single one of them is as sad as ever. He can’t help but write about what he’s feeling, it has always been his MO. Bleed into the page until all the venom was out of his body. 

These days it doesn’t seem to work. These days  _ nothing  _ seems to work. 

The sofa groans when he lets himself fall into it, grabbing the nearest pen and blank paper. Jughead stares at it for a few seconds before ending his glass of whiskey and leaving it aside. He waits for a word, a phrase, something to come up in his brain but all that he gets is an ever growing feeling of frustration. 

The blankness of the page in his hand feels like a kindred spirit, for he too feels as hollow as the abyss of white looks. There’s words there, flying in the back of his head that speak ill of him and his ability to properly function after everything that’s happened but the truth is it’s not just about  _ a girl. _

_ What have you done, Jughead? _ he writes, unable to stand the pristiness of the page anymore. 

The words are accusing and he doesn’t have an answer for them. 

It’s been a month and he still doesn’t have any clue as to how to answer that simple question. Sometimes he looks back -okay, more than sometimes- and everything seems so stupid. He feels  _ so  _ stupid. Jughead can now see the way he had molded himself to chase an impossible dream of a perfect world. A place where he had never found happiness, only commodity that was as far from freedom as could be. A cage of his own making, a perfect intricate design made sorely with the purpose of fooling him into the censorship of his own desires. 

This was not just about a girl.  _ The _ girl. 

Losing her had felt like losing himself in the process. Jughead has never in his whole life felt as lost as he feels now. Wherever he looks, past, present or future, there she was, in his wildest and craziest dreams. He doesn’t remember how it felt to survive without her in his life, he doesn’t remember what it felt like to not be self-aware of his own deepest desires. 

There are some days, where the gray seems grayer and his sadness clogs every pore until there are tears running down his cheeks. Those days he wishes he could go back to being blissfully ignorant. It doesn’t happen often, merely because it feels like he’s just disrespecting her even more than he already has. How could he dare to throw aside the way she had opened his eyes just because he had lost her with his foolishness? What greater gift could he ask but someone who grabbed him by the shoulders and shook the real sense of truth and authenticity back into his life? Jughead silently hoped one day she could learn to forgive him, if only to thank her for bringing him back to life. 

_ To create, you have to destroy,  _ they say. In the back of Jughead’s mind, that’s a small comfort because if the way his chest is caving in on itself daily, it means that maybe the better days are somewhere closer. Having a crisis was taxing and soul-crushing as very little things in life, but it all came to worse if the source of the problem has always been yourself. 

The pen shakes in his hand and he realises he’s shaking.  _ Sleep deprived, possibly dehydrated, haven’t eaten in what? 20 hours?   _ his mind provides. He sets the pen down, sighing and passing his hands through his already messy and greasy hair. Jughead has barely gotten up when there’s a knocking on the door. 

Correction, when it sounds like someone is single handedly trying to take down his apartment door. 

“FORSYTHE PENDLETON THE THIRD, IF YOU DON’T OPEN RIGHT THIS INSTANT I WILL TAKE THIS DOOR DOWN” Jellybean’s voice thunders through his apartment and he instantly winces. He makes his way to the door, calling a barely loud enough  _ coming.  _

He does open the door, slowly because he’s not entirely sure he wants to face the reality of a pissed off little sister. Jellybean is frowning, hands on her hips with a torn looking Archie behind her. 

“Hi” he says, voice hoarse from being unused. 

“Hi?” his sister asks, scoffing and pushing her way into the apartment. Archie manages to look a little sorry, but his expression is mostly worry. 

“Sure, come on in.” Jughead mutters, sighing before he turns and is faces with the barely contained rage of his sister. 

“I will come in, bec-” she stops as soon as she takes a step closer to him after he’s closed the door. Jughead is already feeling drained from what little energy he has and it takes a few seconds to register the change in Jellybean’s demeanour. How her anger moves to make path for decades old sorrow and sadness. “Have you been drinking?” 

_ Shit.  _

“JB, I-”

“Jughead, have you been drinking?” She tries again, this once her voice doesn’t seem so close to falling apart. His eyes flee to Archie, who is looking at him with pursed lips and a closed off expression. 

“I only drank a glass of whiskey, not like I drank a whole liquor store.” he reasons, the pressure of guilt pressing down his ribs and lungs. 

“It certainly looks like it, buddy.” Archie tells him, taking a step closer and putting his hand on JB’s shoulder. Jughead is suddenly striked with the knowledge that he is the one that should be doing that, instead, he’s being the source of his sister’s sorrow and anxiety.  _ The apple doesn’t fall that far from the three, does it, asshole? _

“I swear I didn’t.” he whispers, not sure what to say to make this better. 

“Then why haven’t you been picking up my calls?” she asks, looking up at him. Her eyes are glassy with both the present and the ghost of their childhood. 

He had been so proud once of the way he had removed every single one of those memories from the color of her eyes. Now, the work of years of stability and love is crumbling in front of him, it feels like too much.  _ He  _ is too much. 

“Battery’s dead.” he explains. The floor is a much nicer place to direct his eyes to because he simply can’t deal with the look on his sister’s face right now. 

“Jughead, you can’t have your phone’s battery dead for two weeks.” Jellybeans tells him. The tips of her shoes come to view when she steps closer. “I was scared something had happened to you. I’ve been trying to call you daily.” 

“I’m sorry, I just…”  _ just what?  _ he thinks to himself. How does one explain the total desolation he feels right now? “I lost track of time”  Jellybean is silent and it’s stretching his nerves so thin that he looks up and when he does, he wishes he could erase the pity look his sister is giving him. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” she asks, frowning a little and he takes a step back, scoffing. He’s getting more agitated by the second. Pity, stupid pity. 

“Like you pity me.”

“Oh, I don’t. I think you’re a moron.” she says, making his eyes fly to her. She has one eyebrow up and shaking her head softly. “This could all have been avoided if you weren’t so emotionally constipated for once in your life, Jug. But you’re still my brother, I love you and I want you to be better and not look like a hobo or not picking up for days.”

“She’s right, Jug. You do stink.” Archie adds, wincing and making Jughead make a noise between a sob and a scoff. For a second he ignores the pain in his chest and is relieved that he at least still has these two people on his side to tell him the truth. Which is profoundly ironic.

“I just… I couldn’t deal.” he admits, sighing. He searches around for the words that often come so easily to him, but now, in the direct collision between heartbreak and identity crisis he’s left speechless. “I still can’t.” 

“I know, bro. I know.” JB says, putting her hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently. “Tell you what, let’s take this a step at a time. First go take a shower and we’ll start organizing your place a little, then coffee. Deal?” 

Jughead nods, biting the inside of his cheek so he won’t burst out crying.  _ Grateful _ , he’s so grateful to have these people in his life. People who love and support him even when he deserves a punch in the face rather than a hug. 

If he were alone, he would’ve stayed in the shower until the water ran cold and he was left shivering. But now he merely washes himself and tries to detangle his messy hair with conditioner, trying to resemble a less of a chaotic human. The image in the foggy mirror begs to disagree as his lifeless eyes look back. 

There’s a moment of true deep despair where Jughead doesn’t recognize that image, where the black mop of hair and blue eyes along with the long nose seem to belong to another shadow of a man. But it is him, deep in the crevices of his eye circles, alongside the deep shade of purple and blue lies his sorrow, as clear as day.  _ That _ he recognizes. Because that just sums up his life, right? The recognition and the comfort zone he had built inside his anguish, how deeply ingrained it was inside his brain and how it led to the truest of hardships: disappointing himself. 

Jughead closes his eyes, trying to rein himself in as he remembers there’s two people in his apartment trying to lift his mood, which so far seems like an herculean task at best, so he passes his fingers through his too long hair and changes into some dry clothes. 

The living room seems positively less messy and he can see Jellybean putting away some cups and glasses that were previously abandoned in the sink. Archie is holding a bag and tossing the trash around the living room. 

“I should get depressed more often, I think.” he tries to joke, with something that resembles a smile before he gets a mouthful of kitchen rag, courtesy of his little sister. “Wow, okay, no need to get violent.”

“I’ll get violent all I want, dude. You disappeared from this astral plane, I was scared.” she huffs, taking the rag from his hand. “I know you… I mean, I know this will be a stupid question, but are you ok?” 

Jughead looks down at the question, knowing that in retrospective getting dumped by the possible love of your life isn’t high on the tragedy list, but as he has been getting drunk for for the last few days…everything felt fake and hard to reach, as if between Jughead and reality, there was a thick fog over a minefield. 

“I’m okay. I mean, physically, I’m okay.” he starts, taking a deep breath and scratching his freshly shaved cheek nervously. “Mentally? I will be… someday.”

“I know you will, I just-” Jellybean’s eyes flicker guilty at the remaining whisky bottle on the coffee table and a pang of guilt mixed with the most powerful self hatred rings through him. 

“I’m not him, JB. I’m sorry I scared you, I was in a bad place and I needed to lick my wounds.” he purses his lips, trying to comfort her with a hand on her arm. “I just seem to have forgotten the world outside actually would notice I was gone.” 

“You jerkface!” Jellybean’s lower lip twitches in a mixture of anger and sadness. “Of course we would notice, you’re my brother.” 

“You’re my bassist!” Archie half moans from where he is, frowning. 

“Oh, here I thought I was your friend.” Jughead jokes, scoffing as Archie rolls his eyes. 

“You know what I mean, you asshole.” Archie mumbles, putting the trash bag away. “Next time, just give us a call.” 

“Next time?!” Jughead starts, his humour to escape serious topics bone full out. “I mean-”

“Are you going to pick at everything and be an asshole or are you going to help us get your house cleaned?” Jellybean sasses, hands on her hips, and in that moment Jughead swears he’s not the oldest sibling of the two. “Spoiler alert: there’s only one answer to that question.” 

“Pick at ev-”

Jughead doesn’t get to finish that sentence before Archie is slapping him upside the back of his head, making his curls move aggressively as Jughead chuckles. “Fine, fine, cleaning it is.”

“Good choice.” Jellybean praises him, smiling not at all benevolently. 

They get to cleaning the house and Jughead can’t remember why he didn’t do this sooner. It’s cathartic, cleaning the remnants of his depression and self-isolation period feels like it’s enabling him to breathe a little easier. It’s still there, in the back of his mind, waiting silently for him to falter as he’s bound to do, but right now, here as Jellybean and Archie sing along to some nameless song coming off the TV, he’s rather at peace. 

The broom brushes away the dirt off the floor and he wishes it could be that easy to do with his life decisions, to just brush away every single bad one and get a clean slate. But life is not that easy, life is meant to get dirty. The alternative, and by alternative he means the way he’s been living in a self-imposed box where he fooled himself into thinking his creative outlet was enough, seems rather boring right now.

“ _ And now, the newly released single by Betty Cooper, I gotta tell you Anne, it’s going to be a hit.”  _ the voice says on the TV and every single molecule in Jughead’s body just freezes. “ _ Here is  _ I should’ve known.” 

“I’ll chang-” Archie starts, moving towards the remote with a frantic look on his face. 

“No, it’s… leave it. I have to face the music, quite literally, someday.” Jughead stops him, for a second surprising himself too. But it is true, he’s spent the last few days hiding in his apartment, he might as well rip the whole bandaid off. 

The sound of the somber arpeggio caughts his attention, not being fully the sound that he’s used to link to Betty, but there, in between the chords and the soft  _ mms  _ ad libs he can see her with painful clarity. Jughead, as always, closes his eyes to listen. 

 

_ I should have known that it would end this way _

_ I should have known there was no other way _

_ Didn't hear your warning _

_ Damn my heart gone deaf _

 

Well, fuck. Jughead thinks he stops breathing for a hot second where his chest bursts into painful flames. Her voice speaks of betrayal and pain, he sees her again on that rooftop with tears in her eyes and… the whole thing about memory is that you might not remember the exact words, or the exact shade of disappointment in her eyes but he can revive every single ounce of pain he went through that night and it’s breathtaking in the worst of ways.

 

_ I should have known _

_ Look at the shape you're in _

_ I should have known _

_ But I dove right in _

_ One thing is for certain _

_ As I'm standing here _

_ I should have known _

Jughead lets himself fall onto the couch, the solemn tension on the apartment nearly choking him alongside the tears stuck on his throat.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck.  _ Never once he thought he would’ve been in the receiving end of a song written about him. Each time he had written a song with someone in mind, he tried to diminish it into something that would resemblance simply a relatable thing to happen to someone… not that he had a lot of social experiences to draw stories from, but the lyrics marching through his eardrums without an inch of mercy were as close to the nose as you could get. 

 

_ Lay your hands in mine _

_ Heal me one last time _

_ Though I cannot forgive you yet _

_ No I cannot forgive you yet _

_ You leave my heart in debt _

 

Oh, how he wished he could mend what had been broken. Even if she did find it in the goodness of her heart to forgive him, he could never forgive himself for making her feel like this, Jughead thought, each of the drum rhythmic hits felt like an individual knife in his chest. 

Jughead, naturally a poet and a writer, felt there were no words that could describe the myriad of emotions he was feeling in that moment. How could he keep up with the amount of shame and disappointment that threatened to constantly spill from his mouth? 

“Jug?” a voice said, deep in his consciousness he could hear it but he was rooted in place, hands covering his mouth as he stared at the wall. 

 

_ Maybe you was right _

_ Didn't want a fight _

_ I should have known _

_ Couldn't read the signs _

_ Couldn't see the lie _

_ I should have known _

 

The song hits its ending notes. Jughead feels the slow numbness coat his body, the tips of his fingers start to lose feeling until it feels like every part of his body is shutting down so the only thing he can feel is his erratic heartbeat, pumping pain and misery throughout his body.

“Juggie-” Jellybean sits besides him on the couch and he thinks he can see her hand stretching hesitantly to his shoulder. He lets her, suddenly feeling so tired.

“It’s okay” his voice is hoarse and he realises that some tears must have fell out as JB wipes them away. He clears his throat before looking up. “I guess I needed to hear that.”

The expressions on his sister and his friend  make him look away quickly, not sure he can take any more emotions. He had spent weeks thinking about her and if she could maybe forgive him, how could he mend things, would he ever see her again? Having the answer hurts just as much as not knowing. 

Right now, maybe even more. 

Jughead sighs, trying to making his lungs expand again inside his chest. Something inside of him wants to harden, to block things out and reach for the nearest glass of whisky but he’s tethered by the gentle hand of his sister on his shoulder. 

“It’s bad form to write a song like-” Archie begins, clearly trying to make him feel better.

“You don’t have to do this, we both know we’ve written songs about people and never truly apologize for it.” Jughead tells him, wanting to laugh at Archie’s small relieved expression. “She’s entitled to do as she pleases, hell, I probably deserve this.”

“I wouldn’t say deserve. I mean, you lied, but you didn’t kill anyone, Jug.” his sister, ever loyal, defends him with a frown. “You tried to come clean, if she knew your story, she would understand.”

“Jb, there comes a time where you just can’t keep hiding under your life story. This is one of those moments.” he starts, realising it as he’s talking. “Did we have a crappy childhood? Yes, but it doesn’t excuse that I did lie, consciously  _ and  _ came clean a little too late. I… I knew there was a possibility that it would end like that. I do not get to decide whether or not I hurt her. I did, now I have to deal with it and learn from my mistakes.” 

There’s a moment of silence between them as everybody absorbs the words. It’s funny, how sometimes the answers are right in front of us, but it’s not until we’ve heard them out loud that we acknowledge them. Jughead feels as if some sort of mental block has lifted and he’s torn between feeling immensely stupid or grateful.

“Learn from my mistakes…” he echoes his words, the full meaning of what he has to do still sinking in.

“You know, it’s hard to be supportive and uplifting when you get self-aware the moment you need a pep talk and not a second before.” Jellybean says, sighing, but he’s only half listening. “If only you could-”

“I know what I have to do.” Jughead says, cutting her, shocked expression in his face that seconds later will mirror on the people staring at him. “Arch, how do you feel about changing our arrangement?”

And even as he feels like he’s free falling, like the floor just vanished underneath him and he might possibly vomit by the rashness of his actions, the answering smirk on his friend’s face tells him he’s finally…  _ finally,  _ on the right path. 

* * *

 

It ends up taking exactly a three weeks. 

It had been the first night, where he finally realised what he had to do. He had spent weeks trying to find a new meaning, a new path, weeks of replaying every single thing Betty had said and somehow he had missed the most important one.

He had to stop lying to people about FP3. 

First it came doubt, then bone deep fear then acceptance and finally, peace. Jughead’s new critical point of view over his comfort zone had been permanent after his last meeting with Betty, and since then nothing seemed appropriate. How could he go on living like he had when he knew denial only led to depression? 

That’s where, in a very very late case of eureka, he had come to the conclusion that the best way to get out of this situation and hopefully become the man Betty Cooper had believed him once to be, was to break out of his box and into the spotlight.

Bone deep fear appeared when the what ifs came in. What if he destroyed his career? What if the label didn’t let him come clean? What if he ruined the Band’s status? Archie had been there to soothe his rising panic attack, shaking his shoulders and reminding him that people were already obsessed with FP3 and they constantly talked about how they wanted to meet him, besides, they had an agreement with the label should he ver decide to own up to his creative side. 

Peace, much like numbness, softly embraced him as he laid to sleep. Soothing every fried nerve into submission and chanting quietly how this was the right path, the right choice and something he wouldn’t regret ever doing. 

From that first night where Archie had crashed into Jughead in an almost violent hug, they had waited until it was an office appropriate hour to call Cheryl. That call had gone faster and surprisingly, nothing like Jughead expected.

“You don’t sound surprised.” he said to her over speakerphone, Archie next to him almost bouncing in his chair with excitement. 

“Surprised?” Cheryl scoffs in such an unladylike way that it makes Jughead lean back in shock. “Honey, I’ve been waiting for this moment since you came up with FP3’s alias. I’m honestly a little disappointed it took you so long.” Archie snorts next to him and Jughead punches his shoulder in admonishment. “That’s okay, not everyone can be Blossom-sharp. Swing by my office tomorrow and we’ll sing the papers.” 

The call ended and Jughead is left to stare at his phone wide-eyed and extremely confused. He’s not sure he had expected any reaction in particular, but that was not included in any particular scenario he imagined. 

“What? Did you expect her to spank you?” Archie rolls his eyes at him, leaning back on the couch with a confidence and self-content that makes Jughead want to throw something at his face.

“First off all, thanks for the mental image, asshole.” Jughead grunts before passing a hand over his face and rubbing at his tired eyes. “ Second of all, I… guess? I don’t really know what I was expecting.”

“Jug, if you’re secretly seeking punishment, you won’t find it here with us.” Archie starts and damn him, damn the way each word hits Jughead right in his sternum. “I’ve wanted for you to tell people how awesome you are for a while, dude. You gotta know the only thing in your way was you.” 

Jughead is silent for a little while, not really sure how to answer. There’s a humoristic response in the tip of his tongue but he holds it back as he sees Archie’s sincere eyes. 

“I know… better late than never, I suppose.” he answers, it’s all he can do for now as he tries to swallow past his emotional turmoil.

“Bro, there’s never a  _ late  _ with music.” Archie says and boy, does Jughead want to believe he’s right. 

Next came the public, which in all honesty, had Jughead’s stomach knotted in several types of twists. They were in one of Cheryl's offices, a laptop in front of them with the band’s facebook logged in, the latent stick waiting for him to write in mocking silence. 

How does one begin that type of conversation?  _ Hi, I don’t really know who you are but I super care about your input cause it keeps us afloat, also, I’ve been sorta lying about my involvement, please don’t hate us.  _ Jughead shakes his head, pointlessly trying to find the words.

“You guys know you actually have to type, right?” Valerie asks, tone bordering on extremely bored. Jughead glares at her.

“Thank you for you input, Captain Obvious.” he grumps, sighing in a resigned way. “I don’t know where or how to start, if I’m being honest.” 

“Just don’t get overly poetic,” Cheryl stated, tilting her head to the side as she appreciated her nails. “Be direct, somewhat apologetic and done.”

“That’s not actually bad advice.” Archie agrees, shrugging. “Don’t forget to add the date of the new show. We need to see if people will attend or… I mean, I’m sure they will, not to pressure you , Jug. They absolutely, 100% will-”

“Yeah, I got what you mean.” Jughead cuts him off with his hand before bringing it to fidget with his lower lip nervously. “What about…”

_ Hello fans!  _

_ Today we have an announcement, and we would like very much for you to hold on with us. First of all, you guys are amazing and nothing we do is to hurt you or confuse you. Day to day we try to come up with new material for you guys because you’re what keeps us alive.  _

_ That being said, we know that many of you have been wondering about FP3, our ghostwriter, and after a lot of thinking he has decided to come forward and officially join the band as co-writer: _

_ My name is Forsythe Pendleton the Third (Don’t ask.), but some of you might know me as Jughead… the band’s actual bassist.  _

_ I’d like to apologize to any of you who feel fooled, or hurt by this announcement. This was never my intention, I was just… overwhelmed and scared by the prospect of fame and the responsibilities that come with it.  After years of speaking with Archie, and someone special that made me realise life is more than living in the shadows, I’ve decided to, somewhat, come clean.  _

_ I’ve been using the alias FP3 forever now, and I can promise you nothing will change except probably I’ll start putting Jughead underneath a credit. We’re still the same band, we’re still united as a front, we’re still very much in love with music and we’re (forever will be) grateful for every ounce of love you guys have given us in this journey.  _

_ I can’t wait to navigate this new step on my creative career, if you guys would have me. There’s nothing I’d rather do more than continue making music for you.  _

_ I’d like to briefly thank my bandmates, our manager and everyone behind this band for encouraging me every step of the way, preventing me from having countless panic attacks. As for that someone that opened up my eyes a while ago, I can only hope to become the sort of man you thought me to be, someday.  _

_ All my sincerest apologies and hugs, _

_ Yours, _

_ Jughead. _

“That’s…” Archie’s voice is a bit hoarse and Jughead turns to his friend, surprised to find him a bit caught in emotion. “That’s good.” he clears his throat.

“Good? You’re…” Jughead doesn’t finish the sentence, a little bit freaked out about the situation, every nerve feeling raw after writing that announcement. 

“I’m just proud of you, man.” Archie delivers a soft back-handed slap to his shoulder as he gathers himself. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time. Anyhow, I think you should post that.”

“Yeah, I agree. It’s very sincere.” Melody, having been silent until now, smiles warmly at him and squeezes his shoulder warmly. 

“It looks good, Jug.” Valerie says after the few seconds it takes to read it. “I can’t imagine a negative reaction out of this, you’ll be okay.” 

“Well, if it comes to worse, I will leave-” Jughead starts before Cheryl plants a delicate red nailed finger over his lips. 

“If you say anything remotely like  _ leaving the band _ ,” she says, syrupy sweet in a dangerous way, “I will personally wreck your home studio into nothingness. I am not getting a new bassist.” 

“But-”

“Nuh-uh.” Cheryl glares at him and Jughead thinks he stops breathing for a second before she’s whipping her hair behind her shoulder and presses the button to post the announcement. “There, done. I like it when you follow my rules.” 

Jughead scoffs, releasing the air from his lungs and willing himself to breathe normally again as all of them stare at the laptop as if it’s going to blow up any second now.

“Now we wait?” Archie wonders, frowning and looking torn between boredom and anxiety.

“Now we wait.”

* * *

 

It is while waiting that time becomes elastic and tasteless, like an over chewed gum. 

Fortunately, the waiting only lasted a few minutes because it  _ is _ the XXI century and their fans seem to be trying to put Barry Allen to shame. In minutes, the notifications start arriving and Archie’s the first to move Jughead to the side and start digging and reading. 

“Well, they-”

“Nope.” Jughead cuts him off before he starts, looking to the floor. “I’m sure they’re only a few as of yet, we should wait until there’s more of them until we count it as a statistics.”

Just as he’s stopped talking, Cheryl’s phone goes off, making him jump a little in his place. 

“It’s Tom from Variety,” Cheryl’s eyebrow elevates in a gloating manner that makes hope flutter between his lungs. “I better answer that. Hello sweety, I see you got our memo.”

She’s off, hips moving in a cat like sway. Jughead is completely torn between being unable to breathe and wanting to jump up and down in excitement. He wants this to go as smoothly as possible so much, it’s consuming every molecule. 

The minutes continue passing and he can hear Cheryl talking, receiving multiple calls. He hears he voice of Archie chatting with Valerie and Melody as they face the computer and read comments between them. He’s not sure he wants to approach, his place in the kitchen is a little comfort zone where he’s holding onto his cup of coffee as if it has all the answers inside. 

He lasts 20 more minutes like that. 

“Okay, I’m done waiting.” he states, moving towards his friends and shooing Archie aside so he can look at the screen too. 

The browser has several tabs open, between them pages like  _ Variety, Rolling Stone, E!  _ and some others that he’s not sure he recognizes. All of them talk about the recent announcement in Archie Andrew’s band and give a brief bio on him, alongside multiple pictures of himself.

E! specially takes it a step further and starts asking just  _ who  _ the special someone Jughead mentioned is, which has him wincing visibly, as he stares at some photos of himself with Betty and the speculations over BUGHEAD that had been buried and forgotten a few weeks ago. 

Jughead refuses to stare directly into those photos, having just now starting to feel again like his heart is beating on its own again. He merely closes that tab, making a mental note to talk with Cheryl about that particular rumor later. The last tab, the one with the announcement shows a 99+ notification sign and it makes his throat close.

“Jug, would you please just read some of them?” Valerie close to whines, softly hitting his shoulder. 

“Fine, fine.” he mutters, frowning as he clicks on  _ see more comments. _

Awe is such a weird sensation, but it’s filling every corner of his soul. There’s so much love on the comments, they vary from shock to  _ I knew it!  _ to simply acceptance and happy wishes in life. These people, whom he doesn’t know at all, the ones whose opinion mattered the most are welcoming him with open arms and willing ears. 

There’s almost no negative comments, and the few that exist are quickly bombarded with repercussions by the very same fans that sent love his way. Jughead rubs the tears that are gathering in his eyes and breathes out a relieved sigh. 

“You did it, Jug.” Archie says, smiling at him with such warmth and pride. “And we’re going to be okay.” 

“Yeah, I think we might be.” he replies softly, and for the first time in what feels like years… Jughead really means it. 

 

* * *

 

The show solds out in a day and a half, breaking their record by a mile. 

His social media accounts suddenly are being followed by a huge amount of people and he has been photographed by paparazzi while getting coffee the other day. 

This doesn’t really bother him as much as he thought it would because on the other side the stage awaits and the roaring sound of fans chanting their names is making his heart sing. This is level of content that he wasn’t sure he’d ever achieve, the way it feels like he’s truly on the right path. 

Music has always been the right path for Jughead, now he’s fully embracing it and giving it his whole existence. At least, that’s what it feels like. Jughead is handing in everything, no excuses, no exceptions, no limitations and trying not to worry about the future. 

There are things that could improve, he thinks, if perhaps he hadn’t been such a fool. Betty could be here, watching him, maybe encouraging him like those times she had, look into his eyes like he was something worth watching and smiling about. If only he hadn’t been such a fool. 

Everything in life takes you where you’re meant to be, they say, and Jughead can’t help but agree because if Betty hadn’t entered in his life and broken every single one of his walls he wouldn’t be here and for that he’ll be eternally grateful, whether he can share the journey with her or not. 

The show starts with little to no talking, the massive crowd going nuts over each song. He is noticed a lot more than he usually is, which isn’t a surprise. It’s a welcomed change, one he embraces as he gets closer to the fans and interacts with as many as he can while still playing. 

There are a few signs with his name that make him smile, some encouraging, some playful. It’s never been like this all by its own. The crowd is so receptive and so giving it makes him want to weep, as if his soul is being opened in the most fantastic of ways. And everflowing front of energy. 

“Tonight, as you guys know,” Archie starts after a song, passing a hand through his sweat damp hair. “Is a special night because it’s out first show with out friend Jughead out of the creative closet, why don’t we give him a warm applause?”

The fans start clapping and screaming, Jughead shakes his head a little in embarrassment before he’s bringing his hands to his chest and bowing to them in silent gratefulness.

“We guys wanted to give you something special tonight to celebrate, so… Jug, you’re on.” the redhead smirks in encouragement as Jughead makes his way to the keyboard, hugging Valerie before she steps aside. 

The lights are focused on him suddenly, the literal spotlight and the figurative one he has feared all his life are shining bright over him and he, weirdly, doesn’t feel fear. Instead, he takes a moment to scan the crowd as he sits before the keys and embraces all that he’s feeling.  

“First of all, I wanted to personally thank each and every single one of you for being so understanding.” He talks into the microphone, adjusting his beanie and smiling softly. “Sometimes we let fear move us when we should go for what scares us, because generally, that’s were our passion lays. Today I wanted to gift you guys a song that’s been in my journal for a few years now, it’s very special to me and the band has been kind enough to let me perform it tonight. I hope you enjoy.”

Without further ado, he starts playing the keyboard, even as the crowd cheers and claps about his little speech, quickly silencing themselves to listen to him. 

The notes come easily to him. This is one of the songs he hadn’t been able to give to Archie to perform. Every word of it is compatible with a scar in his heart in a way that feels wrong for anyone to sing but him. 

Today, as he plays the beginning, he feels release. It feels like letting go. Today this song doesn’t taste like remorse or pain, it tastes like freedom. 

 

_ Hello _

_ We haven't talked in quite some time _

_ I know _

_ I haven't been the best _

_ Of sons _

_ Hello _

_ I've been traveling in _

_ The desert of my mind _

_ And I _

_ Haven't found a drop _

_ Of life _

_ I haven't found a drop _

_ Of you _

 

He can’t believe he’s doing it. If anyone had come to Jughead a year ago and told him he’d be singing this song in public and all by himself, he would’ve laughed his ass off. But he is, and he’s enjoying it immensely, or as much as he can while singing about his deepest traumas and feelings. 

He sings today because his father told him once he’d always be a nobody, that he was better off joining his biker gang. He’s singing today because music is the only thing in this world that makes him feel like he has a purpose. He’s singing this song today because he wants more and because, even after years of shitstorms, he  _ can. _

He sings for Betty too, she will forever be in a part of his heart and he can almost find her in some of the notes he plays. He sings this song, too, in the hopes that she’ll hear it and maybe someday remember him, perhaps smile. 

 

_ I try desperately to run through the sand _

_ As I hold the water _

_ In the palm of my hand _

_ Cause it's all that I have _

_ And it's all that I need and _

_ The waves of the water _

_ Mean nothing to me _

 

He remembers writing parts of this song, how very much like bleeding it felt. Jughead had been so close to giving everything up. The rent was hard to pay, their music wasn’t taking off and his father had been arrested again. It felt like the end, it felt like if he wasn’t able to reach for his own dream, he wouldn’t be able to do anything else. 

 

_ But no matter how _

_ How tightly I will strain _

_ The sand will slow me down _

_ And the water will drain _

_ I'm just being dramatic _

_ In fact, _

_ I'm only at it again _

_ As an addict with a pen _

 

Jughead lets the sorrow that’s been clinging to his bones for ages fade away as the song progresses. His creative channel is as open as it’s ever been and the energy is thrilling. Such a polar opposite of how he felt when he was writing this, how odd is life. He moves back and forth, his whole body buzzing with energy as he plays the keyboard and sings. 

 

_ See you tomorrow _

_ But it's the end of today _

_ End of my ways _

_ As a walking denial _

_ My trial was filed as a crazy _

_ Suicidal head case _

_ But you specialize in dying _

_ You hear me screaming, "Father," _

_ And I'm lying here just crying _

_ So wash me with your water _

 

_ I haven't found a drop _

_ Of you _

_ I haven't found a drop _

_ I haven't found a drop _

_ Of water _

 

The closing notes pass by quickly as the first ones did and soon he’s playing the last one, hands moving back to his lap as the reverb of that single note flies through the stage and the stadium which is so eerily silent. 

The applauses roars with a shaking intensity suddenly and he releases a relieved breath, shaking himself from the trance of the song. He thinks he can see a few people on the front crying, right along with the others who are clapping and jumping as they scream. 

He’s being pulled into a bear hug by Archie that threatens to tear him in half, but it’s still appreciated. It tethers him back into the stage and into his own body after flying so high into his mind and the music. 

“That was so awesome, bro.” his friend shouts into his ear over the crowd’s noise. Archie leans back, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him a tiny bit. “This is what we were meant for.” 

And Jughead doesn’t think Archie has said anything as true as that.

 

* * *

 

Jughead makes it to his apartment late and so drained emotionally and physically he merely has energy to take a quick shower and crash into his bed like he hasn’t slept in months  _ (which… only half true.) _

He sleeps dreamlessly and well into the morning until the ringing of his bell awakes him suddenly. Jughead feels a little sleep hungover as he checks his almost dead phone to see the time. 10 am. 

He supposes it’s a reasonable time but he fell asleep at 3am and he was hoping to wake naturally at noon or something. The bell rings again and he groans as he walks towards the door, passing his hands over his face and hair trying to wake himself up a little more before he opens the door, half dead on his feet. 

The sight of Betty on his doorstep wakes him up faster than anything ever could.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE ALMOST THERE, FOLKS.   
> Sorry for the delay. I'm... actually happy about the wording on this chapter. I hope it shines a little more light on Jughead and his story, how I wanted him to grow personally besides their love story :)  
> Hope you enjoy, love you all <3  
> -C


	10. Chapter 10

“Hi…” her timid voice wakes him from stupor the same way a bucket of cold water would. Jughead realises he’s been staring as a man who has never seen a work of art so beautiful in his life, taking in every single detail of her face. He’s hopelessly clichéd in his thoughts merely because he’s too damn busy just looking at her. 

“Betty…” His brain catches up finally, emitting sound. Betty’s lips twitch in a corner and his lungs collapse on themselves as all air leaves him. “I- Uhm. Sorry, you caught me by surprise. I was sleeping and my brain still hasn’t woken up-”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Her expression falters for a second before oh so sadly turning into a hollow polite smile. “I’ll come back later then.”

“No, Betty, please-” What can he say to her? Please stay forever, please let me look at you at least for a half hour or an eternity more? There are no words as his brain panics, alarms blaring  _ don’t let her go again.  _ “Please, come in. I’ll make coffee. It’s okay, I was bound to wake up soon either way…  _ Please.”  _

How come she’s the one here and now he’s staring at Betty, begging her to stay? This situation has barely begun and it’s already a little twisted. He doesn’t mind though, not at all, as she nods awkwardly and takes a step into his apartment. 

The egotistical part of his brain is  _ so  _ glad he had cleaned everything up more constantly after his sister and Archie had come by. Instead of drinking and vanishing from the world, he’d taken to cleaning to exhaust a little bit of the excess angst and energy. 

“I’m sorry to just appear on your doorstep.” Betty says, settling on one of the highchairs on the kitchen’s island. 

“It’s no problem at all. I just…” Jughead’s back is to her as he searches around for coffee and a little bit to gather his wits, calm his erratic heartbeat. “I wasn’t expecting you, to be honest.”

“I wasn’t sure I’d come.” her words are quick, as if not really meant to be spoken out loud. “I…” 

Jughead turns around, curious at her silence. Their eyes meet and he wants to overthink every single glimpse of emotions there, he wants to just fuck everything, get on his knees and beg for forgiveness, for another chance… But she’s here, she’s really here and that must mean something. So he braces himself, stares at her beautiful eyes and waits.

“I was at the concert yesterday.” it’s what finally comes out her mouth. Jughead feels a little off balance, not really thinking she would say something like that. 

“You were?” he asks smartly, trying to get rid of the wave of unwarranted embarrassment that sparks in his stomach, making the little coffee he had managed to drink sit heavy on it. 

“When I read your- well, I’m guessing it wasn’t just yours but, you know, the facebook announcement with the dates.” There’s a bit of a blush on her cheeks and he bites his lower lip as to not let the gobsmacked smirk flourish on his face.  _ She had kept tabs on him? No, Jughead, on them. The band, not just you. Calm the fuck down.  _  “I needed to see it for myself. I-Jughead, it was amazing. You were amazing. I was really proud.” 

Damn it all to hell, wasn’t that what he had been wanting to hear all along? He deflates, leaning on the counter as he’s suddenly weak in the knees. He’d feel a tad pathetic if he wasn’t so damn relieved and happy. 

“It was all for you.” 

The words escape his mouth, forbidden but still there. Betty’s surprised intake of air matches his as Jughead closes his eyes, begging the earth to swallow him whole. So much for keeping it cool, for not giving in too much. He just couldn’t keep a normal conversation, could he?

“I’m sorry. That was… too much.” Jughead mutters, turning to the side, his body trying to escape even as he tries to soldier on. “That wasn’t fair. What I mean to say is… that was all thanks to you. You opened my eyes and made me breaver. I will be forever thankful for that.” 

“Jughead…” Betty’s breath is shaky and she closes her eyes for a moment just like he did. “I always knew you were meant for greater things.” Jughead smiles shyly, not sure he is truly capable of accepting that yet, but he’s well on his way to. 

“Thank you, if I do achieve great things… it’ll be because you pushed me there.” he bites his lip on the things unsaid, on the things he’s dying to tell her. “How have you been, Betts?” 

_ Soldier on, brother, soldier on. _

“I’ve missed you.” she replies, shrugging.

_ Okay, maybe not. _

“I’ve told myself so many times not to miss you. I mean, you were the one that hurt me and here I am, in your apartment, on my own volition.” Betty scoffs and Jughead is barely able to breathe as he leaves the cup of coffee, it rattles a little and he realises he’s shaking. “What the hell does it say about me? That I will bend once again at the will of others? That all you have to do is be nice, say a few little pretty words and Betty Cooper will be right over, forgetting everything you’ve ever done to her and just-” 

Betty stands up, hands flying to her hair and waving through it in frustration. Jughead is frozen, a torrid undercurrent of feelings just bursting through his ribcage with such a fury it leaves him breathless. 

He realises then, that the ache he provoked in her must come accompanied with old demons. Jughead winces, the thought of it making him physically hurt once more as he watches a quickly effervescent Betty Cooper word vomit her way through something. 

“And before you say anything, don’t. Let me finish, you sort of got your grand speech in front of the public but I haven’t. So here it goes, Jughead: You hurt me and I still want you.” Betty lifts her hands in the air in the universal gesture of  _ Oh well _ . “I still want you, painfully, every day. I wake up and you’re there on the back of my mind. You’re there when something good happens, and even more so when something bad does. But you hurt me, Jughead. Not because you didn’t tell me your small identity secret, but because you lied to my face constantly, you made me look like a fool and Jughead, you didn’t  _ trust  _ me. How are we ever supposed to start a relationship on lies, deception and distrust?”

“I do trust you.” Jughead tells her, half desperately. If only, she needs to know that. “I never trusted myself, that was the whole point! You-”

“It still felt like you couldn’t trust me, Jug.” Betty’s eyes are glassy and he can’t revive that look on her again.  _ Please _ , not again. There’s a catch in her breath and a soft  _ fudge  _ muttered before Betty takes a deep breath. “I came here to have an adult conversation and I’m just spilling a lot of frustration and things on you. That’s not cool.” 

“Betty, I think you at least have the right to yell at me for the pain I’ve caused you.” Jughead tells her, voice gente and self-deprecating barely there smile, as he tries to appease her. 

She stares at him, eyes welled up with some emotion, the silence stretches out for a few heavy seconds before she speaks again, calm once more. 

“Everybody makes mistakes, Jughead.” she starts and his stupid, stupid heart seizes, once, with hope.

“Yes, but mine hurt you and you have no idea, Betty, no idea how awful I feel about it.” he sits in front of her, playing with his own fingers trying to find the right words. “It was never… It’s not that I didn’t trust you, even if you felt like that. It was me being my sabotaging self. I’ve always felt… well, not enough. You didn’t make me feel that way, and the fact that you seemed to love FP3 absolutely terrified me. How could I ever measure up to that?” 

“There was no measuring, Jug, because there never was a competition.” Betty says, sighing a bit frustrated, passing her hands through her hair. “I wish you could understand that, you and FP3 are the same, you-”

“I get it now.” Jughead interrupts her softly. “At least, I’m starting to feel like I’m both Jughead and FP3. Betty, you made me question so many layers of denial and barriers I had put in my brain, I’m not saying this to excuse myself but so you will maybe perhaps, one day… forgive me.” 

“I do.” 

“Yeah, I know, but mayb- Wait, what did you say?” Jughead is shocked into silence as her words pass through his panic ridden brain. Betty has the smallest of smiles on her face. 

“I do forgive you.” her eyes trap him, moth to the flame. “I understand that you… didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“But…?” Jughead asks when she stops talking, feeling the words unsaid on the air between them. 

“But you did, and I think it’s going to take a while to completely heal from that. Life has given me plenty of second chances, I...” Betty somewhat nervously tucks her hair behind her ears. “I do have a set of ground rules, though.” 

He’s going to have a heart attack.

Correction, he’s already had one, died, and now he’s gone to heaven or some shit. 

“Are you- Are you saying that you would give me a second chance?” Jughead’s voice is so strained, his fingers gripping the edges of the table.

“I’m willing to try again, yes.” Betty answers, swallowing hard.

Jughead’s feet move, carrying him step by step until he’s right in front of Betty. Beautiful, forgiving, unique Betty. He’s close enough to touch her, his eyes boring into her slightly nervous ones. Slowly, as if to leave her time to back off, he takes her hands in both of his. The skin to skin contact seems electrifying, igniting every single one of his nerves and setting them on fire. 

“Anything, Betty. Anything you want, you can have.” Jughead tells her, reverent. He gently places both of her hands on his chest and when she gasps slightly, he knows she can feel his heart beating like a maniac. “ I will do anything to make you happy.”

“All I ever needed was your honesty.” her words twist the knife once more, digging it deeper. Jughead winces, rubbing his thumbs over the back of her hands more to soothe himself than to soothe her. 

“I’m so sorry, Betty.” Jughead’s feelings get the best of him once more, his eyes getting teary but he takes a deep breath to calm himself. 

“I know.” she replies, smiling a bit sadly as she puts one of her hands on his cheek. Jughead leans on it, twisting a little to kiss her palm. “I just need you to promise that you won’t lie to me again. Not like that. I can’t handle any more lying in my life.” 

“Never again.” Jughead says, one of his hands coming to mimic hers on her cheek. His thumb on her chin as he stares into her eyes. He had never once believed people when they said they got lost in someone’s gaze, but right now there wasn’t anywhere else he wanted to look at but her eyes.  “I swear to never lie to you, Betty. I’ve done enough omitting and lying for two lifetimes. Whatever place I have in your life, if you’ll let me, I’ll never lie to you again. I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything, Betty, are you sure about this?”

“Ever since that night I’ve been thinking about you. How I wished you would’ve told me and how  in some level, I understood why you didn’t.” Betty sighs, trying to find the words. “In hindsight, maybe there wasn’t a better answer or choice. But all the things you’re doing, Jug, how you’re willing to keep on going and show yourself to the world, open yourself to it… I’m so proud of you, Juggie.” 

Jughead releases a chuckle that’s half a sob and bites his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. There are infinite moments in life, this being one of them, as they stare at each other’s eyes and ponder on the full blown of possibilities expanding for them right now. He swears he sees a whole gloriously lived life next to her, things that never crossed his mind are suddenly so crystal clear as Betty smiles at him. This, this right here, is living. 

Betty’s mouth wides in a lovely smile before she speaks. “You know, I’ve come a long way so we could talk this out, is only chivalrous and fair that you’re the one that kisses me first.” 

His eyes fly to her lips for an instant, his thumb travelling on its own to touch them. So inviting. 

“I’m a little worried you’ll regret this.” he whispers, making her eyes soften. “I don’t want you to make any decisions pressured or… I don’t know. I’m not sure I totally deserve your forgiveness.”

“Juggie…” Betty’s arms come around him, bringing him closer. He can feel her breath and they’re far enough just so they won’t get cross eyed when they look at each other. “I want you. Always have. I do forgive you, even if those wounds aren’t completely healed yet, I want to be able to heal  _ with  _ you. To become better at communicating, to grow and make each other the best versions of ourselves we can be because that’s what a mature relationship is, isn’t it? At least that’s what I feel we could have. It might take time, but we’ll get there.” Betty squeezes him once and he just…

“I’m in love with you.” He blurts it out, it comes naturally as if he was just telling her about the weather and it brings so much warmth to his chest. His brain goes a little blank after saying it, such a simple, world changing truth, Jughead can’t find it in himself to regret saying it as Betty’s expression shifts from surprise to awe to radiant happiness. “There’s no one I’d rather go through all of that with than you, Betty Cooper. I’ll spend the rest of what days you allow me making it up to you.” 

“Good.” she replies “Now kiss me, because I’m in love with you too.” 

There’s no time for little awkward jokes or banter right now, there’s just their lips crashing into each other like magnets. There’s the world spinning in its axis and shifting to make place to just them. There’s both their erratic heartbeats and the certainty that this feels like the last first kiss they’re going to have. 

There’s no rush, there’s also not a lot of gentleness as time moves on. As Jughead hugs her body close, close, closer and then just picks her up when Betty shifts to suckle on his neck. They move like they’re the most precious puzzle in the making, figuring out what works and what doesn’t, what makes her gasp in pleasure and what makes him moan. There’s some kind of deeply ingrained knowledge and feeling to the way their skin touches, as if somewhere an energy greater than both of them is greeting an old friend, is hugging a long lost lover, is finally coming to form one. 

There’s words whispered into each other’s skin, there’s  _ sorrys,  _ there’s  _ together’s _ , but mostly.. there’s them. 

And they wouldn’t have it any other way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sorry this time about the lateness of the chapter mostly because I'm sick of saying sorry, I'm owning that I got lazy about this and life was stressing me the fuck out so this was nowhere near my priority list.   
> I honestly hope this gives you guys closure, I tried making the apologies longer, shorter, angrier and softer. Nothing seemed to work and this is the closest I could get to what I imagine an adult relationship could do with this type of issues. I hope you enjoy it, I hope it does the fic justice and I thank you all for sticking and reading this fic (Most difficult thing I've ever written tbh, not because of the content, but the fights I've had with myself.)   
> -C


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Any mistakes are mine.

Jughead was not nervous.

Jughead was downright terrified, petrified, panicked and positively shaking in this moment. 

In the good way that comes with planning to propose to your girlfriend for four years, he’s sitting with his guitar just waiting right now and he wishes he had anything,  _ anything  _ else to do besides thinking himself into a black hole. 

Betty Cooper, now a famous singer - not that anyone ever doubted her-, is shooting the last bit of her music video for her song  _ I choose you _ . She chose to get involved in 4 different fan proposals, even crashed two actual weddings ( _ With permission first, obviously)  _ and filmed the whole thing for the video. Jughead had been there for some of it and he’s sure it will make everyone swoon with happy butterflies because it looked beautiful. 

Just like everything that included her. 

There had been a certain type of thrill, knowing and planning this whole proposal charade and still catching Betty’s eyes while she serenaded the song to the newly engaged different couples. They had been soft and if he allowed himself to hope, wistful. That’s what he’s going with, because the ring in his pocket weights a proverbial ton and his heartbeat is running like a maniac inside his chest. 

He had previously thought about making this smaller, then bigger, then settled for somewhere right in the middle. She’d come to this place of the closed set with her assistant, thinking she had another last minute couple to serenade to and instead, she’d find her…

There’s not a single ounce of cold feet inside Jughead’s body. For all the poor choices he’s made in this not so long life, being in a relationship with Betty Cooper is the best one yet. After they got together on that eventful morning, God… he’d never thought he’d be more nervous than that day, but here he is… life had righted itself. 

That’s not to say it was easy, that’s not to say there hadn’t been arguments, but over all of that there had been honesty, respect and a kind of love that made both of them bloom to the universe. Betty Cooper had changed his life in the most amazing way and there was no one else for him. No one. 

There hadn’t been a bump in the road that seemed impossible when she held his hand. Tough? Sure. Difficult? Absolutely. But ultimately, with Betty (And his friends and sister) by his side he had everything he needed. The rest was a bonus. 

He had known he was going to marry her two months into the relationship. He just  _ knew.  _ Maybe no then, in a couple (or four) years, but she was it. No one challenged him or made him want to become a better Jughead than Betty. There wasn’t a human in the world that he could stare in the eyes and almost share thoughts with, the way he did with her. 

His phone buzzes is his pocket, Jughead takes it out and breathes a shaky puff of air when he reads the message. 

_ She’s on her way. Super distracted btw. ETA 10 minutes.  _

“You’re going to do great, Jughead.” he says out loud, getting up and jumping a little in his place to get rid of his nerves. It only works a little. 

There’s no time like the present, or so they say. He picks his guitar after spending a few minutes getting rid off the excess energy, tests out the strings to see if they’re still in tune and then he just waits a little more. 

In his mind, he jumps between practicing the song and thinking about her. His chest warms and a wave of love floods his system. That’s something he had never expected to feel, both such a comforting and exhilarating sensation that came from loving and being loved by Betty Cooper. There was no need for barriers or walls between them, there was no judgement or unhealthy amount of expectations and that was the most refreshing relationship he had ever had. 

There’s voices approaching and he takes his last deep breath before he moves a little more under the lights and waits for the door to open. 

When it does, he gives a chatting Betty exactly two seconds before he starts playing his guitar. 

“Oh, my God.” he hears her whisper where she freezes. Jughead smiles, glad to have surprised her, which is a very very hard thing to do. Betty has the innate ability to see right through him. 

He doesn’t say anything though, he plays a little more and then… he starts singing. 

 

_ Let the bough break, let it come down crashing _

_ Let the sun fade out to a dark sky _

_ I can't say I'd even notice it was absent _

_ Cause I could live by the light in your eyes _

 

It’s her song. She’s been singing this song all day and it’s the one that she had written, the one she’d coyly looked at him, making Jughead know it was about him as she sang. Each time he heard this song, he felt so so grateful. And now, he was gifting it back to her and only her. Her assistant had bailed as soon as Betty had seen him and now she’s only a few feet away, a look of awe in her face. 

His voice is not as strong as it can be because he’s so nervous, but he powers on. 

 

_ I'll unfold before you _

_ What I've strung together _

_ The very first words _

_ Of a lifelong love letter _

  
  


_ Tell the world that we finally got it all right _

_ I choose you _

 

_ Forever _ , He wanted to add. _ If you’ll have me. Please do.  _ There’s a bunch of emotions raging up and down his veins as he commits every inch of Betty’s face right now to memory. Shock and awe has transformed into bliss and what might be tears in her eyes. Jughead fights the impulse to drop the guitar and hug her. 

 

_ I will become yours and you will become mine _

_ I choose you. _

 

_ There was a time when I would have believed them _

_ If they told me you could not come true _

_ Just love's illusion _

_ But then you found me and everything changed _

_ And I believe in something again _

 

He takes a step forward, then another until he’s close enough their shoes could touch, enough so he can go on playing. He lowers his voice a little bit, because this is so intense on its own, their eyes speak the volume he lacks vocally and… he’s getting lost. Betty is staring at him with such adoration he just wants to exist in this moment forever. She sighs in what seems content and mouths the chorus alongside him, making Jughead smile. 

 

_ We are not perfect _

_ We'll learn from our mistakes _

_ And as long as it takes _

_ I will prove my love to you _

 

He sings this to her eyes, to her soul and even if he has spent the last 4 years of their lives doing this same thing, he will never get tired of making her feel as loved, or even more, as she does to him. That day he had promised to be truthful and now he’s promising to love her forever, even if it in some part it feels as if they’re fated, meant to be and out of their control, he’d still choose her each and every day 

 

_ I am not scared of the elements _

_ I am under-prepared, but I am willing _

_ And even better _

_ I get to be the other half of you _

 

In that his voice does break a little and Betty moves a little bit closer as if she wants to comfort him and his heart seizes. 

Jughead sings the chorus one last time, slowing down the song until he’s almost speaking, his voice is a bit rough with emotion and Betty is biting her lower lip as if she’s holding off crying. That had to be one of the most intense experiences he’s ever had, he thinks, as he stops playing and slowly, never leaving her eyes, Jughead moves his guitar to his back and lowers himself onto his knee. Betty lets a shaky breath out and he smiles at her, because he get it. 

“Betty Cooper…” he starts and she nods, as if acknowledging her own name, as if she’s saying  _ yes, you have my attention.  _ It makes him smile, she’s adorable. “ These last 4 years have been the best adventure I’ve been in ever. The most happy and the most myself I’ve felt in my whole life. There’s no one quite like you, Betts. No one. I told you before, all those years ago, that there was not another person I’d rather go through it all with... I was wondering if you felt the same, if you’d choose me... if you would agree to I’m sure quite literally make me the happiest man on this earth and allow me to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” 

He can’t believe he could deliver the whole thing without breaking down or panicking but he has. In the end of the day it doesn’t matter how he did it  because Betty is nodding, falling to her own knees and grabbing his face all at once. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, you big dork. Oh my God.” she plants kisses all over his face and he might as well implode of happiness right now. “I can’t believe you did this.” 

“What? Proposing? I’ve been thinking about it since I met you approximately.” Jughead laughs as her expression melts even more.

“Stop being so cute, I can’t take it.” she drops a few more kisses on his cheeks before finally reaching his lips. Jughead sighs into the kiss, and is about to bring his hand to her nape to push her closer when he realises he hasn’t actually given her the ring. 

“Jesus, I almost forgot the most important part.” He lifts the ring and Betty’s chin wavers as she extends her hand. It’s a simple ring, really, a few small and delicate diamonds scattered around the golden band of the ring. 

“It’s beautiful. ” Betty breathes, bringing her hand closer to examine it. The light catches a little in her eyes and there’s nothing as beautiful as her in this moment, bliss painted all over her face. 

“I love you, Betts.” He tells her, because he can and because he wants to. His hands go to her face and she leans on them with the most gorgeous smile ever. 

“I love you, Jug. And in case it wasn’t already clear… I choose you, too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured I'd give you double flavour for the time I made you wait, right? :)   
> This is it, the end. Not quite an epilogue but a fluffy glimpse into their future. I've had this scene in my mind FOREVER, you guys. Hope you like it and thank you for sticking around.   
> -C 
> 
> (Song is I choose you by Sara Bareilles. The actual music video does feature Sara helping two couple propose :) and since my WIBAS Betty is inspired musically in Sara, I thought I'd spin the idea out a bit.)

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no valid excuse to say about me abandoning this fic.  
> I hated it. I didn't feel connected at all to it, so, after stuff happened I decided to delete it and edit it. This fic used to be posted up to the 5th chapter, all of these have suffered different degrees of edits but the soul of the fic remains intact and hopefully it will be a tad better than it used to be. At least that's what it feels like to me.  
> The fic is mostly done (currently writing chpt 9) so I will be posting weekly, and this is a promise, folks.  
> Unbeta'd. Any mistakes are mine.
> 
> Enjoy.  
> -C
> 
> PS: the song featured in this chapter is called "Once upon another time" by the amazing Sara Bareilles.


End file.
